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OUR CHILD: 

TALE OF PASSIOP{ 

CLARA E. BALLOU, ^ 

Author of Ethelindf Leaf hi the Storm” etc.,, etc. 


''■If I am not your wife., what am I, prayV* 


leisure- 


-TIME SERIES, NO. 7. 


JUL. 1891. ISSUED MONTHLY. $3 00 PER YEAR. ENTERED AT THE POST-OFFICE 
AT NEVY YORK, N. Y. AS SECOND CLASS MATTER. 


Hew York : 

W. D. RO IV LA HD, Publisher, 
23 Chambers Street. 



A TALE OF PASSION. 


BY 


CLARA E.^^^LLOU, 

AUTHOR OF " ETHELIND,” " A LEAF IN THE STORM,” ETC. ETC. 






CO/V, 


DEC ; 0 1891 , - ' 


. 3 


L- 


NEW YORK: 

W. D. ROWLAND, PUBLISHER, 

23 Chambers Street. 

1891. 




Copyright, 1891, 

— BY — 

W. D. ROWLAND. 



CHAPTER I. 


“ Lo! as hid seed shoots after rainless years. 

So good and evil, pain and pleasures, hates 
And loves, and all dead deeds come forth again. 
Bearing bright leaves or dark, sweet fruit or sour.” 


Slowly step by step let us climb a mountain 
path in Switzerland, pausing now and then in our 
ascent to gaze down upon the valleys, houses, 
fields, and streams below. In the brightness of 
the sunlight our eyes become weary with behold- 
ing, and the mind is surfeited with beauty. After 
many hours of tedious climbing we reach its ut- 
most height. Then we are permitted to behold 
what.^ An old two-story wooden house, pic- 
turesque in its beauty, with its wild and unculti- 
vated surroundings. Around it weeds grow in 
great abundance ; from their midst wild flowers 
clamber up and peep into the windows of the old 
house, and seem to smile and shake their pretty 
little petals back in defiance at the rocks and 
weeds, as much as to say, “ You cannot keep us 

3 


4 


OUR CHILD. 


down ! ” Then they turn slowly around and gaze 
with wonder into a room, at a man who sits 
writing at a curious little desk very near one of 
the windows, while a large, beautiful white dog of 
some peculiar breed reclines at his feet on a rare 
and valuable rug. The interior of this dwelling 
was something wonderful. It looked more like 
an eastern harem than anything else, where grace 
and loveliness alone may dwell. Couches of all 
shapes and of the most exquisite material and 
coloring were scattered about in two large rooms, 
the only ones on the lower floor of the house. 
Silk hangings of a dark crimson hue divided the 
apartments. The covering and rugs on the floor, 
together with the chairs, pictures and ornaments, 
were such as only kings and princes adorn their 
homes with. A veritable little Eden was Prince 
dsi Monti Serrati’s abode on the mountain. 

At last he becomes weary of his writing and 
throwing down his pen with a discontented frown 
on his pale brow, he stoops over and gently pats 
the dog on the head and in a low, deep and ex- 
tremely winning voice, says : “ Come, Don, let us 
go and wander over the rocks and through the 
weeds, and linger around in spots till the sun sets. 
Then it will be time for our dinner. After that we 
shall retire and another day will have ended for us. 


OUR CHILD. 


5 


Ha, ha, old fellow, what say you : will you go ? 
All this was said in good English, though the young- 
prince was an Italian. 

Don licked the hand that so gently caressed him 
and in another moment was on his feet, raising his 
large, intelligent pink eyes to his master s face : he 
barked quite gaily, then turned and walked toward 
an open door and ran out into the soft sweet air. 

Prince dsi Monti Serrati followed, with steps 
steady and firm. He had a magnificent figure, 
standing nearly six feet ; underneath his pale brow 
were eyes of midnight darkness, full of strong pas- 
sion, yet with an occasional roguish glance in them 
he did not care to hide. 

This prince was a strange man and knew not 
himself. He had traveled from country to country, 
seeing nearly all nations and all kinds of people, 
from the savage African to the more cultivated 
Englishman, and now we find him the owner and 
occupant of the old house upon the summit of one 
of the highest mountains in Switzerland. He fol- 
lowed Don with that unmistakable step of a man who 
would go straight at a difficulty and master it too. 
Over rocks he went and old stumps of trees that 
from time to time had been ruthlessly torn up by 
the storms that swept over the mountain-top. 
There are a few natures in this world that are indefin- 


6 


OUR CHILD. 


able, and Prince dsi Monti Serrati possessed a na- 
ture of this kind ; however, his mother had often 
said of him in her native tongue, when he was yet 
very young, Natura lo fece ; e poi ruppe la stam- 
pa,” which perhaps was very true. 

So the hours passed on, and at last becoming 
tired of walking, he found a huge flat rock, and 
drawing Don close up to his side sat down — rais- 
ing his eyes toward heaven he murmured, “ Tell 
me, Don, if you can, whether there is a God above 
us. Am I a skeptic, I wonder? Many is the time 
I have passionately denied the reality of the un- 
seen world ; yet, it is quite impossible, after all, for 
me to resist its wonderful power. W e all live in the 
memories of the past and the anticipations of the 
future quite as much as in the visible matter-of- 
fact world of to-day. Don't we, old fellow ? " And 
the dog gazed upon his master with a smile in his 
eyes and bowed his head as much as to say, “ I 
would answer you if I only could.” 

“ I have heard these lines many a time,” contin- 
ued the prince. And oh ! how true they are.” 

" This is the state of man — to-day he puts forth 
The tender leaves of hope, to-morrow blossoms 
And bears his blushing honors thick upon him ; 

* “ Nature made him, and then broke the mould/* 


OUR CHILD. 


7 


The third day comes a frost, a killing frost 
And — when he thinks, good easy man, full surely 
His greatness is a ripening, — nips his root. 

And then he falls, as I do. I have ventured, 

Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders, 
This many summers in a sea of glory ; 

But far beyond my depth : my high-blown pride 
At length broke under me, and now left me 
Weary- . ” 


“ Oh ! so weary and wretched,” cried he. “ I have 
been nearly all over the world in search of happi- 
ness and as yet I have not found it. Money I have 
in abundance, but it cannot buy that peace of mind 
I long for. Ah ! why was I born with such a nat- 
ure as this ? ” he cried in deep passion. 

The dog did not look at the prince in amazement, 
as one might naturally suppose, but with genuine 
sympathy in his eyes, for scenes such as these he 
was accustomed to. 

Suddenly he threw his arm about the faithful 
animal’s neck and, burying his face in Don’s soft, 
white coat, cried, “ I am tired of this place already 
though I have not been here three months. Yet, 
I long for a new clime, new faces and scenes.” 

When he lifted his face from out of Don’s silky 
hair, a voice as soft and sweet as a chime of silvery 
bells, yet full of pathos, greeted his ears, and hardly 
before these words died on the evening air, “ Ah ! 


8 


OUR CHILD. 


prince, and has it come to this ? ” he was upon 
his feet and in the twilight hour he wound his arm 
about a tiny waist and for a second let his lips rest 
on the loveliest mouth in all Europe. Such is man. 

At one moment he is plunged into the deepest 
despondency, at the next he is reaching out after 
pleasure in the wildest worldly chase, and to nat- 
ures such as Prince dsi Monti Serrati s pleasure is 
like a laugh that begins with joy and ends in reck- 
less weeping — just at this moment, however, he 
forgot all else in the world save the beautiful 
woman he held so close to his breast. “ Millicent, 
my darling," he murmured in tones that made 
every nerve in her body tingle with joy. “ How 
kind of you to come out to meet me ; say, has this 
day seemed long in the little house without my 
presence ? " 

“ Yes, very, very long,’’ she replied, while tears 
gathered in her dark blue eyes. 

“ Then you are never so happy as when I am 
with you, my beautiful one ? " Almost affrighted 
by the thought that his mind was in a measure wan- 
dering away from her, she suddenly threw her arms 
about his neck, and whispered so low and sadly it 
actually brought tears to the somewhat vacillating 
prince’s eyes. “ If you should go away some day 
and never return it would break my heart/’ 


OUR CHILD. 


9 


“ Millicent, what made you think of such a thing 
as my going away ? Forsake you, my own love, 
my angel ? " And the prince honestly thought 
just at that moment there was no such word as for- 
sake in the English language, and if there was 
what was Millicent using it for ? “ Forsake ! 

Oh my God ! ” he cried as she gently pushed him 
away from her. “ That is a terrible word ! " 

“ Forgive me, my child, I should never have 
spoken it,” and a smile dangerous as it was fasci- 
nating lit up his countenance as he continued, “ Tell 
me pray why such strange thoughts and present- 
ments so persistently run through your brain ? ” 
“ Those elements of woe were born with human 
nature. Why question them, prince ? ” 

“ Well, I will not,” he replied as he drew her 
closer up to his side — for a moment he watched 
the fire of love burning in her upturned eyes with 
a peculiar kind of selfish satisfaction; he knew it 
was all his own and would remain so even through- 
out eternity. She was purity itself, tender and 
noble in nature, strong in feeling, yet resolute and 
daring. The affection she bore Prince dsi Monti 
Serrati was no common every-day love, for Milli- 
cent’s heart was true and unchanging. And when 
at last he placed his arm about her neck and drew 
her head down upon his breast, the words that fell 


10 


OUR CHILD. 


from his lips reassured her and set her heart at rest. 
The tiny waves of doubt soon passed from her 
mind and a smile sweet as it was pure illumined 
her countenance. And the stars looked down 
upon a pair of God’s fairest creatures. D]d they 
look with pity ? Who can answer ? One hour 
of intense happiness they spent together in the 
Tresh delicious evening air. Many a man has given 
a fortune, his soul, his all for a divine hour even 
like this one. In fact glimpses of heaven are 
caught in just such hours as these. Not a cloud dim- 
med the beauty of the sky, when at last they con- 
cluded to go back to the old house, Don walking 
on slowly by Millicent’s side — watching closely her 
every movement. The candles were lighted and 
everything looked so cheerful in the house when 
they entered that the prince smiled and seemed 
well pleased as he gazed upon a table that stood 
in the middle of the apartment laden with the good 
things that promote man’s health. A servant 
stood at the head of the table. His complexion 
was even darker than his master’s and he was gen- 
erously displaying a set of teeth any man under 
the sun might have envied. He also spoke a few 
soft words in Italian and showed by his close at- 
tention he favored both the prince and Millicent, 


OUR CHILt). 


II 


So the mad hours flew by filled with pleasure and 
excitement 

It was nearly midnight when the prince laid his 
hand on Millicent’s shoulder, and said, as they 
stood together by a window looking out, “ Let us 
bid farewell to this perfect night with a song, my 
darling.” Your will is mine,” replied she in the 
sweetest of tones. After throwing open the win- 
dows and doors, he blew out the candles. And 
for a time all nature seemed to hold its breath and 
listen to the voices of these two blended together 
in harmonious melody. This was a night never to 
be forgotten. We all know the flowers only bloom 
to fade: and pleasures so intense perish even as 
the flowers. 


CHAPTER II. 


** It was a dreadful moment; not the tears 
The lingering, lasting misery of years, 

Could match that minute’s anguish.” 

The curtain rises again on a far different scene* 
It is morning and the prince s household, consist- 
ing of Millicent, one Italian male servant, an En- 
glish maid and a pretty little Irish cook, are all life 
and bustle. The crimson curtains are pushed 
away back; exactly in the centre of the apartments 
reclines the prince in a great gilded arm chair, 
faultlessly attired in some fine material of a dark 
hue which becomes him well; his countenance, how- 
ever, bears unmistakable signs of a sleepless night: 
his eyes are heavy and dull, his brow clouded, and 
when he speaks his voice is thick and disagreeable. 
What a power there is in the faculty of speech ! 
It can assume any character, express all the pas- 
sions and control all hearts. It can charm with 
the sweet accents of love, and frighten with the 
stern ones of wrath. And for the first time since 

12 


OUR CHILD. 


13 


occupying the old house on the mountain he has 
assumed a masterful way and an extremely unpleas- 
ant tone. 

For what reason, none of the inmates of the 
house can tell. Therefore it alarms them. Paolo, 
the Italian domestic, stood close by the prince s 
side, rolling his eyes up and down in terror, await- 
ing that strange individual’s commands and wish- 
ing for all the world he might easily slip through 
a hole in the floor and be lost to the prince’s sight. 
Nettie, the English maid, stood a little in the back- 
ground, but not far from Paolo, motioning with des- 
perate energy to Millicent (who had taken a stand 
by one of the windows, with a very sore heart) to 
come and quiet their wrathful master, as though 
she had perfect confidence in her power over him. 

Maggie, the pretty, rosy faced cook, was the 
least unconcerned of them all. She stood survey- 
ing the whole scene with her hands on her hips 
and a smile in her eyes of Irish blue. The prince 
gazed for an instant sternly and darkly on them all, 
then closed his eyes, laid his head back on the soft 
cushions of the chair and gave two audible sighs. 
“ Ah’! prince, is it ill that you are ? ” spoke up 
Maggie, with a rippling laugh and a mischievous 
twinkle in her eyes. 

This was more than he could endure in his bad 


OUR CHILD. 


frame of mind; but before he possibly had time to 
open his lips to speak, Paolo put in in broken Ital- 
ian, “ 111, of course he isJ' Then Nettie advanced 
slightly and in a spiritless voice, said: 

“ Pray what can we do to hease your pain ? " 

“ My God, Millicent,” shouted the prince, 
“ send them away, send them away, it is becoTm- 
ing perfectly unbearable.’' She turned and spoke 
to them, and they immediately vanished from the 
room. Now that they were gone she softly glided 
up to his side, and placing her hand on his shoulder, 
said, while her eyes filled with a mist of tears. 

“ Tell me, dear, what it is that makes you so 
irritable this morning. Is there anything I can do 
to please. you ? If so, I will gladly do it.” 

“ No, Millicent, there is nothing on God's earth 
that can please me this morning. I am tired of 
everything, and I am going away to Paris where 

there is life and beauty and all that man ” 

“Hold!” interrupted Millicent. “It can not 
be that you are going away, and alone ! ” 

“ Yes, quite alone,” he replied, in a voice so cold 
that she turned as pale as death, as she again said, 
in tones of perfect dismay, 

“ Going away without me? ” 

“ Yes, without you, Millicent. There is no rea- 
son why I should take you everywhere I go.” 


OUR CHILD. 


15 


“ Why, yes there is,'* said she, while great 
lumps of fear rose in her throat and nearly choked 
her utterance, “ for am I not the Princess dsi Monti 
Serrati ? ” 

“ The Princess dsi Monti Serrati ! " he repeated, 
as he rose from his chair. Then he laughed out- 
right as he said, “ I was not aware there waf a 
princess here." 

“ Then who, or what am I, pray, if I am not 
your wife?" she cried, while her whole frame trem- 
bled and shook life a leaf in a storm. 

He cruelly and sternly made her this answer: 
“You are beautiful Millicent Livingston, the 
daughter of an English dean, and not the Princess 
dsi Monti Serrati, as you have all this time sup- 
posed." 

Such words as these, spoken by man many 
times, determine the course of conduct in their 
victim for a life-time. Do you know, my friends, 
that it takes only a slight word, either good or 
bad, from those whom we love to make a lasting 
impression upon so sensitive a thing as a human 
heart ? 

Millicent seemed like one suddenly turned to 
stone — only her eyes, which had become coals of 
living fire, told the prince her heart had not ceased 
beating. The night before, so full of pleasure and 


i6 


OUR CHILD. 


intense love, now seemed like ages gone ; yet, 
Millicent knew it would be easier to stop the cur- 
rent of a mighty river than resist the hand of fate, 
and when she spoke at last her voice, naturally so 
full of richness, had changed its tone ; only a hoarse 
sound accompanied these words : 

“ Who dares to say I am not the Princess dsi 
Monti Serrati ? Only four months ago I left my 
father s house to go with you to a little chapel in 
London. There we were wed, just at nightfall; 
from London we went to Paris, and there we 
stayed four weeks ; then came here ; and now you 
tell me I am not your wife. O ! what can it mean ! 
What can it mean ! she helplessly cried, as she 
fell down upon her knees before him. 

For a moment he gazed upon her with some- 
thing like pity in his dark eyes. Then, after a 
little, his expression hardened again, as he said, 

“ Millicent, I thought I could always make you 
happy ; but I find that with my peculiar, change- 
able disposition I cannot, and I thought even yes- 
terday that it might never be necessary for you to 
know that of which I am about to speak. But — ” 
and he paused, and looked anxiously into her now 
eager, questioning eyes, then continued — “ but the 
time has come. I can keep silent no longer. I 
am tired of the mountain and these old scenes, and 


OUR CHILD. 


i; 

they might continue on for years, and after all 
what would it amount to ? Only a more disastrous 
ending, and one that would come later in life for 
you. Then, again, every time I look into your 
eyes they warn me of the danger of this deception. 
Millicent, I will deal fairly and kindly by you ; half 
of all I possess on this earth shall be yours. You 
can take it and go back to England, and in a few 
years perhaps wed and be happy ; for our past 
deeds and indiscretions die away with time, and 
really you were not to blame for this either. 
Some one has said — and very truly, too I — ‘ Mar- 
riage is not ihe meeting of two presents. It is 
the union of two pasts.' Only one thing more, 
and I am done. Our marriage was simply a delu- 
sion. The priests and witnesses were only people 
of mine hired for the occasion. I loved you, Milli- 
cent, and never having been denied anything I 
wanted in my life, I was not going to be baffled in 
this, and I knew you would never consent to go 
away with me unless you supposed you were mar- 
ried, hence that deception ; and marriage at pres- 
ent is out of the question with me.” 

“ It was a dreadful moment; not the tears, 

The lingering, lasting misery of years 
Could match that minute’s anguish.” 


i8 


OUR CHILD. 


She raised two lightly folded hands up to him in 
dumb agony. He moved closer to her, and then 
her sensitive delicacy shrank from the possibility 
that his cold, deceptive hands might touch her. 
Much had run along the roads of thought while he 
spoke — and now that he was done, and his voice 
was silent, a strange weakness passed over her. 
Was she going to faint! No, no, not yet! She 
must speak to him once again before she entirely 
lost her reason ; but how was she to do it, when 
her tongue utterly refused to move ? Only groans, 
deep and long, escaped her lips, which attracted 
the attention of Don, who all this time had been 
lying on a rug near the door, apparently fast 
asleep. Slowly he rose, shook his huge body once 
or twice, then he deliberately walked up to her 
side, sat down, and gazed with a kind of wonder, 
first up into the prince’s face, then upon Millicent’s, 
as though he would fain understand what it all 
meant. 

“ Tut, tut,’" said the prince. “ Do not, I pray 
you, Millicent, take this thing so much to heart. 
It is not an unusual case at all." 

As he finished speaking, Don turned his head 
and kissed Millicent’s cold, pale cheek. This sign 
of true affection from a dumb animal stirred again 
into life the blood in her veins ; winding her arms 


OUR CHILD. 


19 


about Don's neck her head dropped in the midst 
of his long, silky hair, and before she realized it, 
the tears were flowing like rain from her eyes and 
her heart was nearly breaking with the sobs that 
rent her frame. Folding his arms behind him, the 
prince began to walk up and down the apartments 
like a madman. 

“ O tears, tears ! ” he cried. “ Why is it a woman 
will always drown her grief in tears, while a man 
will — well, God only knows what ! " and here he 
paused, bent over her and called her name; but 
just at that moment Don began to show his 
teeth and growl like an angry lion. The prince 
started back in actual fear. But fright soon gave 
way to anger, and suddenly pointing quite fiercely 
at the animal, he said, “ For that, Don, I am going 
to shoot you before the sun sets this day.” 

In an instant, as it were, Millicent was on her 
feet, and raising her beautiful, tear-stained face to 
him she fearlessly cried, “ Kill Don, Prince dsi 
Monti Serrati, and you kill me.” 

She was magnificent in her intrepidity; and tall, 
strong and straight, now he stood, with folded 
arms, looking down upon her and her faithful friend 
Don in great astonishment. 

Hitherto, Millicent had been sweetness and ami- 
ability, and this new daring element he had dis- 


20 


OUR CHILD. 


covered in her nature at once puzzled and annoyed 
him exceedingly. In his thirty years he had seen 
much of women, but never one like Millicent. In 
beauty she was superior to them all. She was 
tall, slight and willowy in form, with a face oval 
in shape and mouth and chin exquisite in their 
moulding. Eyes large and beautiful in color, hair, 
dark even as the prince’s, though her complexion 
was very fair and clear. She was only twenty 
years of age, and while he had tasted much of life, 
she had seen very little of it, having always been 
guarded well by a good and noble father; and 
never till Prince dsi Monti Serrati crossed her 
path had she given her father one hour of pain. 
Four months before she ran away from her home 
in England to follow the man who stood looking 
down upon her now with a sensation he could not 
describe stirring in his heart. In a moment of 
thoughtlessness, he had given way to a great pas- 
sion and temptation. He had deceived Millicent 
and as yet he had had no time to even regret it. 
But as he looked upon her and saw her in a measure 
fading out of his life a strange desire came over 
him to tell her something, he scarcely knew what. 
He truly loved this Millicent Livingston, though 
he at that time knew it not. 

Rubbing her hands across her brow a few times 


OUR CHILD. 


2i 


as though to erase the whole cruel thing from her 
memory, she murmured, “ It has all come so sud- 
denly and unexpectedly.” 

“ That is nothing, Millicent; only the way of the 
world,” he responded, with a short, uneasy laugh. 

A scorn she could not quench rose within her 
for him. Such tameness, she thought, after all the 
passionate love and intense pleasure they had both 
experienced; and still how could such a thing be 
possible ? Here was the prince in whom she had 
placed all her youthful trust about to forsake her 
— leave her perhaps all alone in the old house on 
the mountain. A pain such as she had never 
known darted through her heart and brain. 
Stretching her arms out toward him once more, 
she begged and implored him in pitiful tones not 
to abandon her, but spare her the disgrace and 
shield her from the thorny tongue of this unmerci- 
ful world. But with it all, he was unrelenting in 
his determination to go. At last a veil came be- 
fore her vision and shut away the heartless prince 
from her sight, and with uplifted hands she cried, 
“ Is this all ? ” and fell forward at his feet a help- 
less human being. 


CHAPTER III. 


The steel must pass through fire ere it can yield 
Fit instruments for mighty hands to wield.” 

Three weeks passed rapidly by to the busy 
world, though to Maggie and Don in the old house 
the time dragged wearily enough. What changes 
three weeks can make in any heart or home ! For 
while this life lasts it will ever be that sorrow and 
disappointment will burst with unwarning darkness 
into the brightest homes aqd happiest hearts. 
After all what do we know.? Yet, we lift up our 
heads and say what we will do; but an unseen power,' 
most surely, directs our steps and guides our every 
motion. We oftentimes feeKt, in fact we do rebel 
against it all; but what good does it do us ? Here 
we are, and here we must remain till our time 
comes to inhabit another state. 

Three long weary weeks Millicent tossed on a 
bed of illness, faithfully Maggie watched over her 
both night and day, and at last, at the expiration 
of the third week, she was rewarded for all her 
kindness and vigilant attention. Millicent opened 

22 




OUR CHILD. 


23 


her eyes and looked up into her eager face and 
faintly smiled. 

“ Oh ! ” cried Maggie, out of the fullness of her 
heart. “ Thank God you can speak to me at last I 
and falling down upon lier knees by the bedside, 
she laughed and cried together like a pleased, ex- 
cited child. 

In all tenderness Millicent took one of her small, 
shapely hands and said: “Poor Maggie! I have 
made you a great deal of trouble, but tell me how 
long has he been gone ? (Meaning the prince.) 
“ Ah I my dear mistress, he went away soon after 
you fainted at his feet that fatal morning, now three 
weeks ago. Paolo and Nettie followed him on 
down the mountain-path, for they were afraid to 
stay here alone with Don and me. The prince, 
however, left Pet, the horse, behind for our use, 
and some day, when you are stronger, I will tell you 
my various experiences during your long and sor- 
rowful illness.” ^ 

“ Then I have been lying here three weeks,” 
murmured Millicent, as she tried .to raise her head 
off the pillow, but it was a decided failure. 

Not so fast, my sweet mistress,” laughed Mag- 
gie, as she laid her hand on Millicent’s head. “ Is 
it not enough for one day that you have spoken so 
long and intelligently ? 


24 


OUR CHILD. 


“ Ah ! but, Maggie,’' Millicent continued, “ I can 
not help thinking how good you are, and how you 
stayed by me when all others forsook and fled.’’ 

“ Enough, enough,” said Maggie. “ I will tell 
you why I did it, sometime, but not now,” and 
bending slightly forward, she smoothed Millicent’s 
hair a few times in rather a caressing fashion. 
Then she turned and went about her work with 
renewed vigor and a song pleasing to hear in its 
cheerfulness. 

Even the severest cuts heal in time, and Milli- 
cent’s intense illness . had removed the sharpest 
edge from her great sorrow. She awoke again 
into life a changed being. She was indeed changed 
in more ways than she knew, and a few days later, 
as she sat propped up in bed gazing out upon that 
nature once more whose beauties had been denied 
her so many weeks, she smiled ever so faintly; but 
after a little she turned sadly away from it all, and 
called to Maggie to bring her a hand glass that she 
might look upon her face once again. 

Maggie started, turned pale, then produced one, 
after much hesitation, fearing the eflect the first 
glance might have upon her young mistress. Mil- 
licent eagerly took it from her trembling hand and 
held it up before her face. She looked thin and 
wan, there were dark lines under her beautiful 


OUR CHILD. 


^5 


eyes; but she saw nothing of this — her face turned 
ghostly in its palor as she continued to hold the 
glass before her; but at last it dropped from her 
hand, and fell with a dull thud upon the floor, her 
head sank back on the pillow, and covering her 
eyes with her hands she groaned aloud. 

O Maggie ! Maggie ! be you ever watchful of 
your heart or fancy ; win the love of a man if you 
can, but do not love him in return; for when once 
he knows he is master, you have lost your power, 
for man never values or respects that which he has 
unconditionally won.” 

“ Ah ! ’’ observed Maggie, with a slight sigh, “ it 
is sad indeed that love should play such vile tricks 
with us poor weak mortals.” 

After an instant s silence, Millicent let her hands 
fall away from her eyes, and looking up into Mag- 
gie’s face, she said, “It is well that I have changed 
even as I have, for now should I meet him he 
would not know me.” 

“ Do not deceive yourself, fair mistress, for even 
the hair on your head that turned as white as snow 
only a few hours after he left you can not hide the 
wondrous expression and blue of your eyes, and if 
you do not see the prince again for fifteen years, 
he will even know you then by the peculiar, graceful 


26 


bUR CHILD. 

motion of your form that belongs to you and you 
alone.’' 

“ Fifteen years! " cried Millicent. “ O Maggie, 
what a length of time 1 Yet, I think I shall look 
into his face again long ere that.” 

“ Perhaps you will,” replied Maggie, as she 
turned and went about her duties — this time with 
tears in her eyes. And Millicent buried her face 
in her hands once more and remained perfectly si- 
lent and in deep thought for many hours. 


CHAPTER IV. 


Why is thy life so sorely smitten ? 

Wait and thou shalt learn.” 

It was a magnificent night. The moon had 
risen clear and calm and the stillness of nature was 
broken only by the delicate songs of the insects of 
the air. Millicent sat lonely enough in a large 
easy chair by a window in the old house on the 
mountain, with one hand lying idle in her lap, 
while the other rested on the pretty dark curly 
head of her faithful friend, who knelt on a low stool 
by her side. 

Magg^ie was the first to break the silence that 
somehow had settled down upon them. 

Only think, my sweet mistress, you have been 
sitting up now five days. I am thankful indeed 
you are getting strong so fast. Soon you will be 
able to go back to England, and see your old home 
once more.” 

“Ah!” sighed Millicent, that old home will 
never be the same to me again.” 

Maggie smiled very sweetly and her eyes shone 

27 


28 


OUR CHILD. 


like brilliant stars in the dark room as she said, 
“ No doubt it will surprise you greatly when I tell 
you I have written to your father to come to 
Switzerland, and at the dawning of each day now 
I look anxiously for him.” 

“ You have written to my father, Maggie ? You 
astonish me ! Where in the world, pray, did you 
ever meet him ? ” 

“ In London, but do not ask me more, for when 
you see him, his wise tongue will disclose all that 
you should know. Now, let me tell you how I 
managed, when you were so ill, and how Don 
took care of you one day while I went to the vil- 
lage to buy the provisions.’’ 

“ Very well, go on,” murmured Millicent in gen- 
tle submission. 

Folding her fair mistress’s hands carefully and 
tenderly, Maggie then rose from her rather un- 
comfortable kneeling posture, and turned around. 
This time she sat down and began again. 

“ Ah ! it was a dark day and night after the 
prince went away, I can tell you. The hours 
seemed like days while I waited and prayed that 
you might open your eyes and look up into my 
face and call my name. Suddenly I turned from 
you, just as darkness set in, and went to an open 
window, and called for help till I was hoarse ; but 


OUR CHILD. 


29 


no one came to me, and when I returned again to 
the side of the couch whereon you lay and looked 
upon you once more, I certainly thought I should 
go mad with fright. I could not believe my senses. 
I ran my fingers through your hair — yes, it had 
turned white even in the few moments I had been 
gone from your side. I knew not what to do, so 
I flung myself face downward upon the floor at the 
foot of your couch and earnestly called on the 
Blessed Virgin to help me and give me strength, 
for I was all alone — no one to whom I could 
speak but Don, and he, poor, faithful fellow, sat in 
the middle of the room like a peice of statuary, 
gazing in perfect wonder upon you. And while I 
pondered what was best to do, the tiny white 
marble clock on the mantle tingled the hour of 
midnight. Then you opened your eyes and 
spoke, not my name, but your father’s ; then you 
closed them again and all was blank to you once 
more. In that strange state you remained two 
whole weeks. Happily there was provision 
enough after Paolo went away to last over ten 
days; but one morning,” resumed Maggie, now with 
more enthusiasm, “just as consciousness began 
again to dawn in your mind, I looked and every- 
thing eatable for man and beast was nearly gone. 
I was troubled indeed; but after a time a bright 


30 


OUR CHILD. 


idea came to me. Don could take care of you 
while I went to the village. He lay at my feet at 
the time, looking at me as though he understood 
it all, and with a look in his large pink eyes that 
read, ‘You can trust me.’ ’’ 

Millicent lifted her drooping head and faintly 
smiled, while an , inexpressive thrill of great affec- 
tion passed over her for the noble, young, unsel- 
fish creature by her side. 

“ O ! Maggie, I have a faint remembrance of 
that day, as ill as I > was. I know that Don was 
very faithful and never for one moment left my 
side.” 

Maggie laughed softly as she replied, in fervent 
tones, “Don is such a wise animal ! It is a great 
pity he cannot speak. Still, again, do you remem- 
ber the little red wooden fpail you used to carry 
whenever you went out with the prince to gather 
berries or wild flowers ? ” 

At the mention of the prince’s name a sharp 
deadly pang of pain darted through Millicent’s 
heart, and she groaned aloud; and Maggie heard 
it, and it was some time before she recovered hei*- 
self sufficiently to go on with her narrative. 

At last, however, Millicent said, “ Yes, Maggie, 
I remember the pail.” 

“Well, my dear mistress, I went and got it, 


OUR CHILD. 


31 


filled it with cool fresh water from the spring, and 
placed it on a low stool by your bedside. Then I 
told Don whenever you reached out your hand it 
was water that you wanted, and that he must lift 
the pail up by the handle in his mouth to you. 
Why, truly,” cried Maggie, “ he actually shook his 
huge body and ran the length of these apartments 
three times in answer to me, and also with a feel- 
ing of joy that he could serve you in some way, 
and I had perfect confidence in him, dumb though 
he is. Then I put on my hat, went out and sad- 
dled Pet, mounted her, and away we sped to the 
village,’' and Maggie laughed quite merrily as she 
thought of her first ride of the kind, and the lame- 
ness that followed for many days after. She did, 
indeed, present a very pretty picture as she sat on 
a low stool by her mistress' side in a dainty thin 
white dress, and black silk apron, and for the first 
time in many weeks Millicent smiled quite brightly 
as she gazed down in wonder upon her and 
thought how youthful and bright the naturally 
saucy little face looked under the rays of the moon. 
Maggie had such a hopeful, sunny nature, and 
could not easily sink into unvarying despair. 
Then, again, she had been so brave, and had kept 
up her courage thoughout all of Millicent's severe 
illness and the difficulties she had been called upon 


32 OUR CHILD. 

to meet; and while Millicent was lost in wonder 
and admiration of her, she heard her say, “ I have 
taken good care of Pet also. I have brought her 
fresh water every day from the spring.” 

“ But,” interrupted Millicent, “ you did not tell me 
how many hours you stayed in the village that day.” 

“ We tarried there only a very short time, long 
enough, however, to have all necessaries strapped 
on Pets back and sides; and before night fairly set 
in we were at home again. When I entered the 
house, Don greeted rne with a smile in his wonder- 
ful eyes, and like a happy child, proud to run and 
show me the empty pail, and longing, I know, to 
tell me all that passed between you and him that 
day. I have repeated the journey twice since 
then, but of that you already know.” 

No words can express the depth of feeling and 
gratitude Millicent felt. To think that Maggie, 
the one who had held the most inferior position in 
the prince s house, had truly been her only friend. 
The very idea of the thing overwhelmed her with 
thought. Then Maggie had seen and talked with 
her father, too. What did it all mean anyway? 
She went it over in her mind many times, but at 
last she could think no more, confusion overcame 
her, and throwing her arms around her young 
friend s neck, she buried her face in her bosom and 
sighed like a tired child. 


CHAPTER V. 


“The most avails, the prayer of love, 

Which, wordless, shapes itself in deeds.” 

In his fine old library in his home in England 
sat Dean Livingston, quite alone, eagerly devour- 
ing a letter he had only an hour before received. 
It was very prettily and intelligibly written. Yet 
one could plainly see the writer had been laboring 
under a great mental excitement, and the dean read 
it over a dozen times, if he did once, with his eyes 
brim full of tears. 

“ Ah ! Maggie Conroy, your little letter reads 
more like a romance than any thing else,” he said 
aloud. “ It is hard indeed for me to realize that 
Millicent, my only child, my beautiful daughter, is 
in deep trouble, as you say, and has been lying ill 
in an old house on a mountain in Switzerland, and 
away from the sound of every human voice but 
yours. Ah! my poor children ! ” he cried. “Yes, 
there has been one voice speaking to you all the 
time — the voice of our Maker, and through the 

33 


34 


OUR CHILD. 


Strength and patience he lent you, Maggie, you 
successfully nursed my child back to life again.” 

Admiration, respect, blended together with un- 
bounded gratitude, kindled in the heart of the dean 
toward the pretty young creature who had indeed 
been a friend to his child. Ten, eleven, and twelve 
o'clock came and went, still the dean sat with the 
letter clinched tightly between his fingers, with 
head bowed and in deep thought. Near him on a 
small table stood a student’s lamp, now turned low, 
while the tall, dark bookcases loomed up all about 
him, like great walls shutting him and his thoughts 
away, as it were, from the curious, prying eyes of 
the world. No one heard him weep that night, no 
one heard him talk, and no one but his God heard 
the earnest, soulfelt, silent prayer he offered up in 
behalf of his daughter. 

.Dean Livingston was a man of great intellect 
and power, and nobility of soul. His life had 
been, as the story read in his face, pure, as far as 
it is possible for man to be, just and upright in all 
his dealings with mankind. 

At last his prayer was done and he lifted up his 
head once more and said aloud, “ It is true, 

“‘All things must change 

To something new, to something strange; 

Nothing that is can pause, or stay. 


OUR CHILD. 


35 


. The moon will wax, the moon will wane; 

The mist and cloud will turn to rain, 

The rain to mist and cloud again, 

To-morrow be to-day.’ 

“ And thus it has been planned that the pleasant 
song of love has already ended with my daughter ; 
for, love once blighted in the heart of a Living- 
ston never blooms again. Well do I remember 
the evening she gave her virtue to Prince dsi 
Monti Serrati — how lovely and trusting she was, 
and how little she then thought that sorrow, dis- 
appointment and grief, the common inheritance of 
ma'n, would ever enter through her door. Yet, it 
is the pleasures that charm us that are always the 
most transitory. When I last saw her she was 
very fair. Now I wonder what she is like? I am 
almost afraid to feast my eyes upon her. Oh ! if 
her mother were only alive to help me now,” he 
said, as he rose to his feet. “ But what am I say- 
ing ? I fear I am getting childish, so great is my 
sympathy and anxiety; ” and glancing at his watch 
he started. The hours were passing quickly away, 
it was nearly three o’clock. “No time for sleep 
now,” he said, as he folded up Maggie Conroy's 
letter and placed it next to his heart. ‘‘ I must 
away and prepare for my journey, my daughter 
needs me. I will go to her at once. 


CHAPTER VI. 

If but those hours of darkness could be all forgotten too.” 

Even the longest journeys in this world come 
to an end, and hardly before the dean was aware 
of it, he had landed in the small village in Switz- 
erland whence Maggie had posted his letter. 

It was not a difficult thing to ascertain where 
Prince dsi Monti Serrati’s quarters were located, 
for almost every body knew in the village. So the 
dean began to climb the mountain-path, thinking 
nothing whatever of the long and wearisome jour- 
ney; his mind was so full of his daughter and her 
new sorrow. 

“ The moon was pallid but not faint, 

And beautiful as some fair saint 
Serenely moving on her way,” 

when he reached the utmost top, and he 
paused and looked around in perfect wonder. 
Then a smile parted his lips as his eyes rested on 
the old house.' A lighted wax candle stood in one 
of the windows, a beacon to guide him safely to 
his daughter’s side. 


36 


OUR CHILD. 


37 


There have been moments in almost every life 
when a word, a sign or thoughtfulness on the part 
of another when we felt all the world was cold and 
heartless, or a gentle smile, a sympathetic clasp of 
the hand of a friend when in trouble has unloosed 
the fount, and tears have come like rain, to refresh 
the heart and soften and strengthen the soul for a 
new life. This one light that stood flickering like 
a lonely star in the sky touched the sensitive, un- 
selfish heart of the dean, and strong man though 
he was, he bent on his knees and wept like a child. 
He felt and knew whose hand had placed it there 
and that she was expecting him at any moment, 
and it touched his heart as nothing else could do. 

The soft, delicious, dreamy air played all about 
him, and he thought no wonder some of our 
greatest poets have loved to spend and recklessly 
idle away their summer time in this lovely bracing 
climate. 

“ Here it is Millicent has experienced her 
greatest happiness, and here it is she has met the 
deepest sorrow she will ever know,” he said as he 
rose to his feet once more and made a desperate 
effort to stop the mighty beating of his heart. 
Then he stepped bravely forward and soon reached 
the door of the house. , It kindly yielded to his 
touch, and at last he stood within the portals of 


38 OUR CHILD. 

what Prince dsi Monti Serrati had called his Eden. 

The brilliancy and richness of the apartments 
dazzled his eyes, an^ for an instant he thought he 
stood within the realms of a fairy land. In fact, it 
all seemed more liice a dream, than a reality. Sud- 
denly he felt something brush gently against him. 
Casting his eyes downward he discovered Don 
standing wagging his tail in delight, and looking 
up into his face, as much as to say, “ I never was so 
glad'to see any one before in all my life.” 

The dean could not refrain from exclaiming 
aloud, “ What a magnificent animal ! ” 

Slowly the form of a woman rose from one of 
the couches, and for a moment she stood and 
looked at the dean as though she did not know 
him. Her long, elegantly embroidered white robe 
hung in graceful folds about her young and slender 
but perfect figure. Her beauty was so ethereal 
she looked more like a spirit than a mortal, and 
the dean staggered forward, exclaiming in some- 
what of a bewildered way, “ Millicent my daughter! 
it cannot be possible.” 

Hardly before the last tones of his voice had f 
died away, she had fallen into his outstretched 
arms, and he heard her say — 

“ O father, father, forgive me I ” 

Then her head sank on his shoulder, and away 
from his sight. 


OUR CHILD. 


39 


‘ Forgive ^ is a strange word, my child, and 
one I have never even thought of in your case. 
Lift up your face, my darling one, and look at me, 
for I know you have suffered. No words are 
needed to tell me how much, for this (taking a lock 
of her white hair between his fingers) is a proof of 
the great affection you bore the one who has so 
cruelly and heartlessly forsaken you.” 

“ But, father,” she groaned in shame, “ I cannot 
lift my face, for you do not know all.” 

Suddenly his arms fell away from her, and she 
dropped on her knees at his feet. Still she buried 
her face from his sight while she cried, “ I was 
weak, I confess, but I loved and trusted Prince dsi 
Monti Serrati, and he-deceived me, and has made 
me worse than an outcast.” 

“ No, no; thank good heaven, Millicent, you are 
not that,” said the dean, as he wiped away the 
tears that had gathered in his eyes. “You have 
confessed to me that you were weak, yet who is 
strong ? . Let a word, a look, an entreaty come 
from the right source, and the step is taken from 
which we never can recede. My daughter, lift 
your face from out your hands, and look at me, for 
you have done no wrong. I, whom you would not 
trust, saved you.” 

“ Saved me ! ” she fairly screamed in her excite- 
ment, “ and how ? ” 


40 


OUR CHILD. 


He bent over her and gently lifted her again to 
her feet, for he could not endure the sight of his 
only child bending so humbly before him. Tak- 
ing her face between his hands, he looked straight 
into her beautiful eyes and said, 

Millicent, only the prince is deceived, not you; 
for I gave you away in the darkness of that chapel 
in London, and my old friend Bishop Alster read 
over the words that made you the Princess dsi 
Monti Serrati.” 

“ Oh ! my father, my friend ! Thank God that it 
is thus ! ’’ she cried, as she clasped her arms around 
his neck. “ Not for my sake alone, but for the 
sake of — ” Here she paused. It was not neces- 
sary for her to go on any further, for the dean un- 
derstood it all too well, and while he pitied her 
from the very depth of his heart, he, too, like Mil- 
licent, thanked God that the world could paint no 
stain on her character. 

Everything was changed to Millicent now. She 
lifted her eyes full of courage to her father’s face, 
and said, “You are tired, I know. I will call 
Maggie. She will give you a cup of tea; after that, 
you shall rest awhile, and then, father, before we 
retire for the night, you will tell me all, won’t you?” 
she pleaded, in a sweet, soft voice. 

“ Indeed I will, Millicent. The story is a long 


OUR CHILD. 


41 


one, and I am very tired, as you say, and require 
a little rest.”. 

There was no need to call Maggie, for just at 
that moment she appeared at the head of the stair- 
way that led from out the cellar kitchen. 

The dean greeted her with a smile and a hearty, 
sincere shake of the hand. 

She was more than pleased to see him, and she 
set to work at once with her heart fairly in her 
mouth to prepare him that which all need in this 
world to sustain life. 


CHAPTER VII. 

For we walk blindfold a minute and a step my reach the pre- 
cipice.” 

It was a pretty picture, and one that if an artist 
had put on canvas the world would have paused 
to admire. Side by side on a low divan sat the 
dean and his daughter; Maggie, at their feet, re- 
clined on a soft cushion, buried deep in a rich black 
fur rug, with one hand resting on Don s head, that 
was pillowed in her lap, while his- body lay curled 
up like a snow-drift by her side. There was an 
eager, expectant look on her face as she patiently 
waited for the dean to speak. 

At last, taking one of Millicent’s hands within 
his own, he said, “ Tell me how it has been with 
you since you left England. How long did you 
stay in Paris and how long have you been here ? ” 

“ We stayed in Paris one month,** said Millicent, 
“ then came to Switzerland and by chance the prince 
heard of this place ; he bought it from an aged 
couple who were glad to sell and go to live in the 

42 


43 


OUR CHILD. 

village below. . Then he ordered all these beauti- 
ful and costly things from almost everywhere in 
the world, it seems to me. He spared no pains 
or money, as you can plainly see, in fitting up what 
he called his paradise ‘here below.’ For many 
days man and beast alike climbed this mountain, 
patiently obeying his every command. When 
everything was in perfect order and readiness, he 
brought me here,'' 

“ A strange freak,” said the dean. 

“ Yes, father, but, lonely as this all may seem to 
you, we never once thought of loneliness, we were 
so happy for a time. O God,” she moaned, 
“ that such happiness should have been so heart- 
lessly destroyed ! Father, tell me, is there a God.^ 
and if so, why did he allow such misery to come 
upon me ? ” 

“ Millicent,” said the dean, “ no one yet has 
solved the mystery of this universe. My child, 
you are no different than the rest of mankind. 
While you live and while they exist shadows will 
fall in every path and lessen the light of every eye.” 

“Yet, father, you said only a few hours ago I 
committed no wrong.” 

“ Neither did you, Millicent. You were blind 
when you were in love with Prince dsi Monti 
Serrati, but you could not deceive your best friend. 


44 


OUR CHILD. 


It is true, I did not know how, when or where you 
became acquainted with him and now it matters 
byt little. Still, I know it was a short acquaint- 
ance and one that rapidly ripened into love. It 
came to me in this way, and in a manner that 
strikes every true Englishman with horror. I re- 
member well it was a beautiful night; somehow I 
could not study. I longed for the air and to go 
out and commune with nature alone. So I went, 
and as I neared an arbor that stands in my garden 
of roses, I heard voices, and one that was very 
familiar. Suddenly I paused and these words 
came distinctly to my ears, ‘ O Millicent, my love, 
say that you will be mine, and you will make me 
the happiest man on the face of the earth.’ I 
waited anxiously for your answer. It came at last 
in these words : I am yours in this life. Prince dsi 
Monti Serrati; and in eternity too.* It was the 
same old story that has been told and repeated 
over and over again from the very beginning of 
the world till now, and it will ever be new just so 
long as man is permitted to inhabit this earth. 
But the name Prince dsi Monti Serrati pierced my 
heart like a sword. Yet I thought all expressions 
of surprise and. amazement then and there would 
have been out of place, so I concluded to let you 
go till morning, thinking perhaps you would come 


OUR CHILD. 


45 


to me With your tale of love; but morning, sad to 
relate, came and went, and you never came near 
me. In fact, you evaded me for many days. Some- 
how I feared this prince greatly the moment I heard 
you speak his name, for I knew him well by repu- 
tation. He has lived a great deal in London and 
is well known in society, and I have also heard of 
him in almost every place in the world. While he 
is an extremely handsome and fascinating man he 
yet bears the name of being a libertine, my 
daughter.” 

O father,” — groaned Millicent, “ what have I 
done ! what have I done ! 

“ Nothing, my child, nothing ; only listen while 
I tell you the rest. I watched you that night and 
knew when you went to your room. After that 
the days passed on and, as I have already said, you 
never came near me. I thought it very strange 
indeed, and it troubled ihe. Some five evenings 
later, however, as I sat alone in my library think- 
ing and dreaming, with my lights off duty for the 
first time in many years, I thought I heard a slight 
rustle of a dress in the hall. I listened, and, yes, 
this time I heard a step,' then the hall door was 
opened very softly, then partly closed. Ah I my 
child, the horror of that moment! I arose from my 
chair with a wildly beating heart and a determin- 


OUR CHILD. 


ation to save you, if possible. I fairly flew out into 
the open air, but I could not overtake you, you 
were so light and swift of foot. You reached the 
hedge and the arms of your lover while yet I was 
half way up the walk. A moment later, however, 

I stood within speaking distance of you both, and 
I heard these words come from his lips — ‘ My 
darling, I knew you would come, you are so faith- 
ful and true, and now, say that you will go away 
with me, for I love you.’ Then he paused to listen 
to something that you had to say. My child, I did 
not hear your words, but the sparks of fire that 
suddenly shot from his eyes told me plainly enough 
what you had said did not please him. ‘ Nay, nay, 
Millicent,’ he passionately cried, ‘ do not refuse me 
at this late day, for if you do, it will drive me mad, 
yes mad,’ and for an instant the night air dallied 
with his wild words. At last you spoke again — 
O my God, child, every word you uttered sank deep 
down into my heart. I knew it was past the power 
of a human being to hold you back, for you gave 
your heart, your life, your all to Prince dsi Monti 
Serrati. Truth rang in every word you spoke. 
Never before had I witnessed such perfect devotion, 
and as he bent over and gave you one long pas- 
sionate kiss, I knew that sealed your fate. Millicent 
will never be anything more to me, I wisely con- 


OUR CHILD. 


47 


eluded ; so instead of foolishly making my presence 
known, I waited in breathless suspense to hear 
what his plans might be. I heard him say he had 
already prepared priest and witnesses in London, 
and I also knew well by many things he poured 
into your innocent ears that all was not well. 
However, I resolved to go to that ceremony which 
was to, and did, take place just at evening time two 
days later. Again, Millicent you may think it 
strange and the world may condemn me for not 
interposing or in any way trying to frustrate, or 
stop you in your thoughtless, wilful course. I left 
that with stern nature, knowing well that if you 
tamper with her, she never forgives a wrong and 
that she would be your only and best teacher. 
You can easily imagine how I rested that night, 
the hours seemed like years while I lay and tossed 
on my bed and prayed for the morning light to 
break. Somehow, toward morning I fell off into a 
light slumber, and when I awoke the sun was 
pouring gloriously into my room. Instantly I arose 
and walked to the window and gazed out upon the 
world. It appeared bright and beautiful and as 
though storms and trouble were unknown to it. ‘ I 
will go to London to-day,’ I said, as I stoud 
there, ‘ and see my friend Bishop Alster ; he will 
advise me what is best to do,’ and some two hours 


48 


OUR CHILD 


later, as I stood by your side, satchel in hand, in 
my library and told you I was going to London to 
be gone two days, you neither started or mistrusted 
my mission. You only smiled, and kissed me 
adieu, wishing me a pleasant journey. I had a 
lingering hope at the very last moment you would 
confide in me, but you did not ; so I went on my 
way, knowing well for the first time in your life 
you were glad to have me go, yet in all sincerity I 
asked God to take care of my poor misguided 
daughter. 

Fortunately I found the bishop at home and 
glad to see me. I told him my story and when I 
had finished he laid his hand on my shoulder and 
said, ‘ My friend, you have done exactly right, for 
there is no obstacle the wily prince cannot over- 
leap. I will lay everything aside to-day to serve 
you, and save your daughter in this way at least, 
by marrying her lawfully to the prince.' Then he 
turned from, me, and lightly touched a bell that 
stood upon a table near at hand, and soon our 
faithful Maggie Conroy appeared. 

“ ‘ Now,’ said the bishop, as he took her hand 
within his own, and led her gently to my side, 
‘ this young woman who has been in my house for 
over two years, and useful to me as an amanuensis, 
shall go to the chapel with us this evening. Then 


OUR CHILD. 


49 


I suggest we give her money enough to follow 
your daughter wherever- she goes, for she will need 
a friend, before a twelvemonth passes over her 
head, and you can trust this littk orphan girl with 
your life.’ 

“ Do you remember, Maggie,” said the dean, 
as he bent over her and placed his hand on her 
head, “ all that passed that night ? How we three 
went to the chapel and found there waiting some 
fellows, who for a few more paltry shillings 
promised to flee London before the prince ar- 
rived ? ” 

“ Indeed I do,” replied Maggie, with tears in 
her eyes. “ And I also remember when the time 
came that Prince dsi Monti Serrati led his beauti- 
ful trusting bride to the altar, and through the 
shadows in the dark chapel I saw you give her 
away, and long, deep and well Bishop Alster read 
the words that made her the Princess dsi Monti 
Serrati. I followed them to Paris, then to Switz- 
erland, and when I heard the prince was going to 
housekeeping, I applied to him for a situation, car- 
ing very little what it was so that I got near the 
princess. Both the prince and princess looked 
favorably upon me, and I was installed in this house 
as cook.” 

Then she paused and looked at Millicent, who 


50 


OUR CHILD. 


all this time sat wrapped in perfect silence and 
great amazement. 

Surely Tupper was right when he said, 

“ For we walk blindfold, a minute may be much, 
a step may reach the precipice.” 


CHAPTER VIII. 


“So quick bright things come to confusion.” 

The Sabbath broke in great brightness and 
splendor upon the mountain, and it was the first 
Sunday in many years that Dean Livingston had 
been absent from his home and flock, and he keen- 
ly felt the change, filled with anxiety and trou- 
ble though it was; he wandered over the mountain 
with Don by his side, drinking in the wild, perfect 
beauty of nature, and for the time being he let all 
annoyances pass from his mind; at last he found 
a soft patch of green grass by a cool, clear spring, 
and flinging himself down upon it he folded his 
hands under his head, making in all a soft, easy 
pillow to lie upon; and as he lay there listening to 
the sweet and different songs of the birds, an untold 
quietness stole over his physical frame, and he 
thought how beautiful and mysterious is all in na- 
ture. It is in just such moments as these that the 
noblest thoughts and aspirations of our life come to 
us, when no human voice is around to disturb us 

51 


53 


OUR CHILD. 


and break the delicious dream. Alas ! it is when 
we come in contact with the people of the world 
that all these thoughts leave us and we become 
confused, blind and callous as it were, in eager 
search for fame, wealth and what not. 

Don sat and watched the dean with much inter- 
est, touching him now and then on the elbow 
with his paw, as if begging for a little attention; 
then the dean would smile and talk to him, which 
seemed to* please his great “Silky Whiteness," as 
Maggie had been wont to call him many a time. 
But it was not long before the dean forgot every- 
thing and fell off into a light slumber, the first 
he had had for rhany days, and Don settled down 
to watch over him while he slept. 

At length the day wore away, and just a little 
before nightfall, the dean stood before the front 
entrance of the old house holding Pet by the 
bridle. Soon Millicent came out, followed closely 
by Maggie, who closed the door behind her for the 
last time. In one hand Maggie carried something 
that looked very mysterious to the dean. He said 
nothing, however, but turned his eyes to Millicent’s 
face, which looked so thin and white and sad, that 
it touched his heart. Laying his hand on her 
shoulder he said, 

“ Millicent, keep up your heart, for all will be 
■\vell with you yet." 


OUR CHILD. 

Her only reply to this was a weary, heart- 
broken sigh. 

“ But, Millicent, let me ask you, will you not 
keep up your courage ? " 

“ Yes, father, I will do my best, and not worry 
you with my troubles any more; and now will you 
please lead Pet away to the head of the mountain- 
path and await me there ? I will join you soon.” 

The dean stooped over and quietly imprinted a 
kiss upon her brow, then immediately submitted 
to her request. When he had gone, Millicent 
turned to Maggie and said, while the tears came 
unbidden to her eyes and fell like rain-drops down 
her cheeks, “ I am going to burn this old house, 
with all its beautiful ornaments, to the ground, and 
if by chance the prince ever comes back, and some- 
thing tells me he will, 1 want him to gaze upon 
the ruins and destruction and think what might 
have been.^ ” 

Here Maggie handed her over the can of some 
inflammable stuff that had looked so mysterious to 
the dean, and from where he stood he soon saw 
flames shoot into the air. He did not start or even 
lift up his voice in protest. He only thought 
“ all is well.” But Don, who stood by his side, 
became uneasy, and in spite of all efforts to restrain 
him, he broke away and ran wildly barking back to 


54 


OUH CHILD. 


the old house. He found MilHcent on her knees 
with tightly clasped hands watching the burning 
of what ‘‘ had been/’ sure enough, almost a para- 
dise here below. MilHcent saw Don, and knew he 
was frightened, and in very gentle tones she spoke 
to him and he in a second or two calmed down. 

“ Now sit by my side, my good fellow, and look 
at the old house,” said MilHcent. “ See how it 
lights up! Soon the place will be no more, Don, 
where you and I have spent unnumbered sweet 
hours of perfect bliss. It will be as desolate and 
barren on this mountain hereafter as my heart is 
to-day. I go forth, to what, I wonder.^ Is it to 
spend my days in remorse and weeping ? ” 

“ No, no, my good friend,” said Maggie, as she 
bent over her and gently wound her arm about her 
shoulders. “ You shall yet do good and the world 
will bless you for it, and there will come a day also 
when this deep wound will appear almost like a 
dream to you. Mark my words, the prince’s day 
has not yet come, and while he is a peculiar, 
changeable man^ I own he has thought and great 
affection, and this will come home to him more 
deeply than it possibly can to you ; now come, 
sweet lady, arise, and let me take you to your 
father.” 

Only a few moments later and the dean silently 


55 


OUR CHILD.#* 

lifted his daughter into the saddle, and Pet stepped 
forward with her precious burden — and quietly and 
sadly enough this strange little party began their 
journey down the mountain, never once glancing 
backward as they went, and before the cold, cloudy, 
damp, depressing winter weather which that climate 
is heir to came on, the prince and Millicent were 
almost forgotten by the inhabitants of the village 
that lay at the foot of that mountain in Switzerland, 


CHAPTER IX. 


“ Turn, turn my wheel! Tis nature’s plan 
The child should grow the man.” 

In one of the oldest and most exclusive towns 
in New England lived Elizabeth Dayton, Dean 
Livingston's only sister. Many years before she 
had married William Dayton, a young and promis- 
ing doctor, and together, with happy young hearts 
and the best wishes of all their friends, they left 
their native country to seek their fortune in the 
broad fields of America; and they were successful 
too. The struggling young doctor fought bravely 
for a practice and his rights, and when at last he 
reached middle age he was looked upon as the 
leading physician in that good sized town in' 
Massachusetts, and with the increase of practice 
came the inpouring of the fund that enabled them 
to build a home that was the envy of many a poor 
soul. In this pretty home Dean Livingston and 
daughter and Maggie Conroy had been guests now 
for nearly five months, very much to the joy and 
pleasure of the doctor and his most excellent wife. 

Mrs. Dayton was very found of her brother, 
and she looked upon Millicent with something 


OUR child. 


57 


like worship. In. her the young and unhappy 
princess at last found a mother; in her willing ears 
she poured out all her grief and sorrows; and Mrs. 
Dayton folded her to her bosom and sympathized 
with her, and cried over her and lavished upon her 
great attention. But the event of all others which 
the dean, the doctor and wife and Maggie anxiously 
awaited arrived at last. It was in the early spring 
and on a night when the rain was falling down 
upon the earth in torrents. The wind raging 
without fairly shook the house, but none of its in- 
mates heeded this, for they were all, save the 
doctor and nurse, wandering in different parts of 
the house in great suspense, and with fear marked 
on every face; for that mystery in the form of a 
human life was struggling its way into existence. 
At last, and before the morning fairly dawned, the 
storm waned and the. doctor came out of the sick 
chamber, and going up to the dean, who had been 
faithfully and anxiously walking up and down the 
hall just outside Millicent’s door, the whole night 
through, he stopped him, and laying -his hand on 
his shoulder he looked into his eyes and said, 

“ Now cheer up, my good friend; all is well; for 
under the sky in free, liberal, America a son has 
been born to the Prince and Princess dsi Monti 
Serrati.” 


CHAPTER X. 


The cygnet finds the water, but the man 
Is born in ignorance of his element. 

And feels out blind at first, disorganized 
By sin i’ the blood — his spirit, insight dulled 
And crossed by his sensation.” 


In a palace that was the envy of nearly all Paris 
we meet again Prince dsi Monti Serrati. This 
time we find him amidst life enough, something he 
was longing for when in the old house on the 
mountain in Switzerland; and while Millicent bore 
him a son under the hospitable sky of America, he 
lay on a couch in his gorgeous salon clothed in 
purple and fine linen, surrounded by men of few 
brains but great wealth, and dancing girls, some 
twenty or more in number, of rare beauty of face 
and form. 

Thus he lay with no thought beyond the mo- 
ment but for self and the gratification of his baser 
passions, and the girls recklessly scattered flowers 
all about him as they danced to his pleasure; after 
a little, however, the music ceased, and rising on 
one elbow he called “ Zelica,” in a tone that was 

58 


OUR CHILD. 


59 


soft and charming to hear, and through an arch- 
way at one end of the salon appeared a young 
and beautiful woman with a garland of choice pink 
roses wound about her golden head. He smiled 
as she came gliding swiftly toward him in a garb 
that did not conceal but marvelously revealed every 
line of her perfect proportions, and when at last 
she reached a low stool by the side of the couch, 
she sank down upon it, and, as if in shame or fear, 
she covered her face with her hands and groaned 
aloud. Suddenly the smiles died out of the prince s 
face and throwing his arm around her beautiful 
white shoulders he said, in an undertone, 

“ Be not afraid or ashamed, my pretty Zelica; 
nothing shall harm you this night ; ” and while 
every one in the salon wondered where he had 
found such a lovely creature, not one among them 
all dared to question him in any way concerning 
her. She had somehow found favor in the prince s 
sight, ^nd further than this they were left entirely 
in the dark. 

A moment later, when the music began again to 
pour forth its wild strains, the girls in tinsel and 
tights gathered up the roses that lay in great pro- 
fusion all around the prince. 

Zelica lifted her face from out her hands and looked 
at them, and they smiled at her fair, innocent beauty 


6o 


OUR CHILt). • 


and bending down upon one knee before her each 
one in turn offered her a flower, which she took in 
great silence. Then they rose, formed a' circle 
about her, and laughed quite merrily as they let 
drop flower upon flower down upon her as gently 
as snow-flakes fall upon the earth. 

The picture was a pretty one and it greatly 
pleased the prince. At last she was almost en- 
closed as it were in an arbor of roses. 

They tell us “ Man was banished from Paradise 
because he dishonored the fruit of its flowers, and 
yet the flowers have been sent to cheer us in all our 
different walks of life, and while yet they adorn 
the bosoms of the corrupt and breathe their sweety 
perfumes in dens of vice, still we know the flowers 
themselves are pure and Prince dsi Monti Serrati 
thought of many things he would have given much 
not to have thought of that night as he gazed at 
the mountain of roses and the lovely face revealed 
above it. 

Suddenly he arose from the couch, and throwing 
his hands in the air, he cried like a maaman, 

“ O my God, can it be there are two faces so 
much alike in this world, or am I dreaming She. 
was pure, my beautiful, my love, my angel Millicent, 
and so is Zelica, and I will be less than a brute if 
I harm one hair of her head,” and before the as- 


OUR CHILD. 


6i 


tonished crowd of men and women had time to 
collect their thoughts to speak he liad borne the 
beautiful Zelica from the room. 

Soon he appeared again, however, but alone; 
his face looked stormy and dark and passionate and 
as though strange and hateful thoughts had taken 
possession of his mind. 

“ Wine ! Wine ! give me ‘wine ! ” he fairly 
shouted in tones hoarse and unnatural, as he sank 
down in the first chair that presented itself, and al- 
most instantaneously stimulants enough were set 
- before him to make drunken fifty men. That night 
his magnificent palace was turned into a regular 
pandemonium of vice, and while one soul of his 
blood was being ushered into existence hundreds 
were being destroyed by his wicked influence. Still 
in their midst he was the handsomest and tallest 
and most daring of them all. 

Men liked him for his peculiar knov/ledge, women 
were charmed with his beauty and recklessness of 
manner. One smile from his lips was sufficient to 
make the most modest and virtuous bend in meek 
subjection to his powerful will — he was fascinating 
to the last degree. What appeared sinful and vile 
to the outside world, to his victims seemed, just so 
long as he was the leader of the game, like harm- 
less play, in fact, and this in the midst of the music 


/ 


62 


OUR CHILD. 


that should have quieted the passions, and the 
lovely flowers that were made only to adorn purity 
and innocence. Prince dsi Monti Serrati and his 
men and gayly attired women friends were like 
fallen angels indeed. 

Just a little before the great marble clock in the 
saloon struck three Zelica came gliding slowly into 
the room, dressed quietly and plainly, like the 
peasant girl that she was. The prince’s quick eye 
saw her when she entered, and he instantly rose 
from his languishing position on a couch and went 
to meet her with an angry scowl on his brow. She 
paid no heed to his displeasure, but in its stead 
held up to his view a beautiful white waxen lily. 
His face turned as pale as death as he staggered 
and would have fallen, had not some one caught 
him by the arm. Helplessly indeed the prince 
looked up into his guest’s face and said, “ Thank 
you, Lord Ray don. You have saved me only from 
a fall, but neither you nor anyone else can drive 
away that dreadful monster, remorse. At last, at 
last, he has seized me ; he is tearing my very heart 
out.” And turning again to Zelica he cried, “ Tell 
me, pray, why you have come to remind me of my 
past, with that lily, the flower of all flowers my 
Millicent loved best on this earth ? ” 

Zelica smiled very faintly as she replied in a 


OUR CHILD. 63 

language no one in the room understood save him- 
self— 

“ This lily somehow got mixed with ^the roses 
and clung to me even when you carried me from 
this saloon a few hours ago. Look ! ” she said, as 
she carefully touched it with her fingers, “ the story 
of her life is printed on each petal. She, your 
Millicent, as you call her, sent this flower, I know, 
to save me, and it spoke to you while hidden in the 
roses through her to spare Zelica and send her back 
to her own country and away from the shameless 
eyes of Paris. It is now almost morning,” she con- 
tinued as she laid her hand on his arm and looked 
up into his face, “ and when the first ray of light 
breaks I am going to leave you forever ; with good 
wishes, though, for you have been very kind to 
me ; and now before I go, choose your course for 
the remainder of your life, for it will not be long at 
the best. Let me tell you, Prince dsi Monti 
Serrati, that while this life is full of enjoyment, it is 
yet full of suffering and remorse. The will, remem- 
ber, has only two choices, right and wrong. Now, 
hereafter what will it be with you? ” 

And before a hundred or more people who had 
now gathered around them, he bent on one knee 
before Zelica, and taking both her hands within his 
own he said, 


64 


OUR CHILD. 


“ Zelica, my child, from this hour and henceforth 
vice such as has invaded this palace to-night 
shall know me no more. Even as morning breaks 
with you it shall also break with me. You shall 
go on your way rejoicing, and I will go — God 
only knows where — and it will be many a day 
before Paris shall see these doors opened again.” 

Then he bowed his head and passionately kissed 
the lily she still held tightly between her fingers. 
At last the strong, willful man of the world broke 
completely down. Suddenly Millicent’s sweet pale 
face rose before him, as on bended knees she hum- 
bly begged for mercy he so cruelly denied in the 
old house on the mountain. The torture of the 
moments was intense; he could neither speak nor 
lift his head, and Zelica felt great pity for him, and 
wound her shapely arm about his neck and pil- 
lowed his face upon her shoulder, and there she let 
him rest in perfect silence for many moments. One 
by one the dissipated men and women left the 
palace with thoughts known only to themselves 
and their Maker, and some two hours later, while 
yet Paris was wrapped in partial darkness, the 
prince and Zelica stood just outside the palace 
door ; her hand lay quietly in his, and his dark 
eyes that had grown even darker with suffering 
rested for a moment on her pale face. Then at 
last he spoke: 


OUR CHILD. 65 

“ Zelica, look at me and tell me am I as baa as 
men think and the world has pictured me ? ” 

Instantly her hand fell away from his, and from 
her bosom she brought again to light the lily now 
crushed and wilted. Holding it up to him she 
said, while a sweet smile lit up her whole counte- 
nance: 

“ No, no; there is great capacity for good in you, 
for you are susceptible to the gentle beauty of 
flowers.” 

“ Thank you, Zelica,’’ he said as he stooped and 
imprinted a kiss upon her fair brow. Then she 
put the flower again next to her heart and turned 
to go. 

“ Nay! ” cried he, “ stay a moment longer,” and 
taking something from his pocket he quietly thrust 
it into her hand, and said, “ Do not thank me 
Zelica; take it and do hereafter all the good you 
can with it, and sometimes think of the peculiar, 
freaky prince whom you have faithfully served 
now for many months ; and sometimes, too, let this 
thought pass through your mind, Zelica — while 
yet I greatly admired your beauty and innocence, 
I never for one moment have thought of injuring 
you in any way. Think of me also as I wander 
from place to place in search — as God is my witness 
— of the only woman whose purit’' I ever defaced. 


66 




OUR CHILD. 

I know that I love my Millicent now, and God 
grant that I may soon find her and fold her in my 
arms and ask her forgiveness.” 

Zelica lifted two earnest dark eyes to his face, 
and simply said, “ My prayer is, Prince dsi Monti 
Serrati, that you are not too late in finding out this 
intelligence. If your Millicent be sensitive and 
refined, she may forgive you, but she will never 
forget the wrong you have done, her to her dying 
day. Ah, Prince dsi Monti Serrati, she would not 
be a woman if she did.” 

The prince winced at her words, and for a 
moment he remained perfectly silent. After a 
little, however, he said, “ Zelica, hear me, for on 
this great love alone now depends the happiness 
or misery of my future and the development of all 
the good or evil that still exists in my nature. 
Look ! there is a grey streak in the sky. It will 
soon be daylight. Now we will say good-bye for- 
ever, Zelica.” 

“ Good-bye,” said she, and that was all. 





CHAPTER XI. 

“But suddenly dissolving, all loveliness is flown, 

And I find a thorny wilderness where I must walk alone.” 

«> 

There is no madness so extreme, it seems to 
me, as that of watching and even waiting for what 
we know will never come into our lives again; yet 
it is but human nature to hope on till every atom 
has been destroyed and the inevitable is thrust back 
into our faces with a terrible assurance that forces 
us to submit, whether we will or no. Thus it was 
with Prince dsi Monti Serrati. He left Paris only 
to wander from place to place, till at last he found 
himself one fine day in mid-summer back in Switzer- 
land once more. 

Perhaps he thought to take up again the thread 
of a broken life — whatever it was that led him to 
take that step he could not tell. It was not that he 
expected to hna her .n the old house — no, no; yet 
there was a faint nope that it might even be so. 

It was almost a perfect day when he began his 
journey up the mountain, mounted on one of the 
finest steeds in Switzerland; and, when at last he 

67 


68 


OUR CHILD. 


had almost reached the summit his horse came to a 
standstill and began to tremble all over, as if in 
great terror. Bending forward, the prince gently- 
patted him on his dark, glossy neck, and said, 
Steady, King William, steady and the animal 
immediately yielded to the quieting tones and mag- 
netic touch of his master s hand. The prince, how- 
ever, followed the direction of King William s quick 
eyes, and discovered a curious looking old woman 
sitting on a rock very near them by the road-side. 
He did not start or even grow pale when she rose 
and came toward him, at the same time sending a 
hollow and mirthless laugh out upon the air. It 
was nothing but an old woman’s warning laugh, 
and he simply looked down upon her in a perfectly 
indifferent manner. 

“ Ho ! ho ! Where art thou going, my handsome 
lord ? she inquired, as she jingled an old bag of 
gold that was fastened to her side by a heavy cord. 

“To the old house on the mountain,” he replied, 
as he dropped a gold piece at her feet. 

Thanking hirn with a low bow, she stooped over 
and picked it up, and soon hid it from sight in her 
leather bag. Then she began to sing in a voice 
that must have been exceptionally fine in her youth- 
ful days: 


OUR CHILD. 


69 


"O Cont6 Guy, the hour is nigh, 

The sun has left the lea, 

The orange flower perfumes the bower, 

The breeze is on the sea; 

The lark whose lay has trilled all day, 

Sits hushed, his partner nigh. 

Breeze, bird, and flower confess the hour, 

But where is Conte Guy ? ” 

The village maid steals through the shade, 

Her lover’s suit to hear: 

To beautV'shy, by lattice high. 

Sings high-born cavalier; 

The star of love, all stars above. 

Now reigns o’er earth and sky, 

And high and low his influence know, 

But where is Cont^ Guy ? ” 

These pretty verses cast a strange spell over the 
prince, and he cried, 

“ Look here, old witch, tell me : is my Millicent 
gone ? The beautiful young woman who trusted 
me with all that her sex has to give.” 

“Yes, yes!” she replied. “The fair signora 
whom you betrayed has long ago gone away with a 
broken heart. Again I see her in a beautiful home 
across the sea, with a little child in her arms, and 
that baby boy is the living image of you. Now 
turn and go back the same road you came, for no 
woman, however young and lovely, awaits you on 
the top of this mountain. That day has past; you 
were not wise, for you thoughtlessly threw away 


OUR CHILD. 


;o 

a gem for the pleasure you have at last found un- 
satisfactory and hollow. 

“ Fool ! ” he muttered between his teeth in anger, 
“ what do you know of her ? and what do you know 
of me Away with you,” he continued, snapping 
his riding whip above her head. “ I am tired of 
your idle babble.” 

But in spite of all, her words had taken root in 
his heart, and they annoyed him exceedingly as he 
went on his way up the mountain road. At last, 
and yet while the sun was high in the heavens, he 
reached the top. It was some time before he dared 
to lift his eyes to look around him, then, when he 
did, his heart grew faint indeed, and his hands 
weary, and they fell to his sides like dead weights; 
his head sank forward on King William’s neck, who 
now stood perfectly still with his unhappy burden 
as though he understood it all. The moments 
went slowly but steadily on till a half hour had gone, 
then he lifted up his head again, and springing 
lightly to the ground, he fastened the horse by the 
bridle to a tree near by, then he deliberately walked 
up to the black pile of timbers, sat down on an old 
stump of a tree, and looked thoughtfully upon the 
ruins of what had been even to him for a few 
months an abode of perfect happiness; and he 
thought of “ what might have been,” as Millicent 


OUR CHILD. 


71 


said he would. Every song of a bird, every tree 
or flower, and even the breath of the sweet air 
made him think of her, till thought drove him 
almost to the verge of madness, and a determina- 
tion settled down upon him to wander on and on, 
even if it took years till he found her, for he loved 
her, and was now willing to make any sacrifice to 
atone for the great wrong he had" done her. The 
sun had long gone to rest when he turned sadly 
and regretfully away from it all, and wearily enough 
he again mounted the back of the faithful animal 
who bore him safely down the mountain, and away 
from the ragged sights that haunted his memory 
like a bad dream. 


CHAPTER XII. 


“ Such sweet content, such sounds, such sleep, such bliss 
Beggars enjoy, when princes oft do miss; 

The homely house that harbors quiet rest. 

The cottage that affords no pride nor care. 

The man that ’grees with country music best. 

The sweet consort of mirth’s and music’s fare.” 

Ten long years Prince dsi Monti Serrati spent 
in traveling from city to city and village to village 
in se.arch of her whom he found not, but would 
have given worlds to have caught just one glimpse 
of. Twice he stole into England by night and 
through the windows in her old home he plainly 
saw the dean looking lonely enough, each time 
pouring over his books that were his only compan- 
ions and solace when in trouble. From the out- 
side world he gleaned this knowledge, however, 
that Dean Livingston’s daughter had not been in 
England for more than eleven years ; furthermore, 
they knew nothing of her. At last, completely 
worn out and disheartened, he again entered Paris 
and opened once more his magnificent palace 
doors, not to the dissolute world this time, how- 


OUR CHILD. 


n 


ever, but to those men and women and children 
who were unfortunate and had suffered even as he 
had; and these poor creatures would spend whole 
days at a time wandering through the vast apart- 
ments that were richly stored with art and antiqui- 
ty, and a whole day was scarcely sufficient to ex- 
amine the richness and splendor of Prince dsi 
Monti Serrati s palace. And in him for a short 
time they found a mighty friend, and great coun- 
selor in all their troubles, and Paris looked on and 
smiled, and wondered what this eccentric wealthy 
prince would think of doing next; but there came a 
day when the people in that great city almost for- 
got him in their eager run after a star that dimmed 
all others with her dazzling light, one that burst 
like magic upon the Parisian boards. Her pecu- 
liar, startling beauty and sweet voice were talked 
of everywhere. Madame Millicent had been in 
Paris three weeks, and those who had not seen 
her were simply nobodies in the eyes of society. 
She was already a great pet with the people, and 
the remarkably handsome little fellow who always 
accompanied her shared equal blessings with his 
beautiful mother. Soon, stories got afloat, as 
somehow they always will, concerning her charac- 
ter, which were at once wholly without foundation 
and ridiculous in the extreme. She had come 


74 


Our child. 


among them a perfect mystery, and we know all 
things mysterious in this world add intensity and 
weight to our curiosity; but it is just as easy for us 
to reach the bottom of the sea with the length of 
our arm as it is to fathom some natures on this 
earth. Yet, Madame Millicent was one of the few 
born to create a world- wide sensation; her won- 
derful beauty and winning manners found their 
way to every heart; her face once seen was never 
forgotten, and like all the rest of the world Prince 
dsi Monti Serrati had heard her praises sounded 
from many lips, but as yet, he had not seen her, 
and three weeks had already passed away. The 
name, however, was one that at once created a 
perfect fury in his heart; not that he exactly 
thought it could be his long-lost Millicent, yet he 
had seen too much of this world not to know that 
such a thing was not beyond a possibility. So, one 
night, with a number of his distinguished friends, 
he decided to go and see for himself what the diva 
was like that was winning such laurels from Paris. 

He went early, but many had already gathered 
in the Grand Opera House, and when the prince 
and his party entered his box there was a general 
hush throughout the whole building. For the 
first time in his life, however, he saw no one; 
neither did he care or know, when the famous, 


OUR CHILD. 


75 


wealthy and fasliionable men and women eagerly 
glanced toward him for one little bow of recogni- 
tion. In all his life before he had never looked 
one half so handsome and elegant, and many a 
worldly mamma gazed at him that night and 
sighed, for well they knew, while yet each and 
every one of them would gladly have welcomed 
him under their roof as a son-in-law, that he was 
for some strange reason far beyond their reach. 
Now all the world was dead to him, while he 
waited and prayed for the curtain to rise and dis- 
close the face of her whom he almost felt certain, 
by the way his heart beat and by the electric 
thrills that were passing through his whole frame, 
could possibly be no other person, than his long- 
lost love. “My God !’* he cried, as he clutched the 
arm of a handsome young Englishman known as 
the Duke of Claiborne, who sat quite near him, 
‘‘If the curtain does not rise before long I shall 
go mad.” 

“Easy, my good fellow, easy; for the lovely 
cantatrice does not appear for some time after the 
curtain goes up,” said the duke, with an agreeable 
smile he meant should calm the passionate prince, 
but it did nothing of the kind; on the contrary, it 
drove him almost to desperation. The prince was 
in just such a state that only a smile, and a smile 


76 


OUR CHILD. 


from the lips of the woman he loved, could quiet 
the storm that was raging within him. Bending 
forward again he said, 

“ Tell me, Claiborne, does love ever end in this 
world ? ” 

The same agreeable, intelligent smile that was 
perfectly natural to the duke passed over his coun- 
tenance as he made the prince this reply, 

“ One thing I know, love hath no end; what 
endeth is not love,” and his answer silenced the 
prince. 

This night it had been given out that Madame 
Millicent’s little son would sustain the part of a page, 
and when at last the curtain went up the great au- 
dience patiently bore with the act till almost the 
last moment, when amid a tremendous applause the 
diva and her son appeared before the foot-lights. 
Never had there been a moment in all Prince dsi 
Monti Serrati’s life like this one, every pulse in his 
body ceased beating as he watched her lips part in 
a sweet smile as she acknowledged the good will 
and hearty greeting of the people, then throwing 
her large magnetic eyes over the audience for a 
second she trilled very sweetly, but, alas ! suddenly 
her voice entirely died away, like a bird that had 
taken fright. The prince had caught her eye, and 
she stood like one spellbound, gazing at his box. 


OUR CHILD. 


17 


It was her little son who stepped slightly forward 
and brought her back to reason again. 

“ Mamma,” said he with his great, beautiful, dark 
eyes raised to her pale face, “ what is the matter 
with you ? Look, the audience is becoming alarmed 
at your stillness.” 

She turned and gazed down upon him, and 
smiled. It was all over; the great shock had come 
and gone; then she began to sing again, more 
Sweetly than before. No woman of the world ever 
carried herself better under such a trying moment. 
That night she stifled all the bitter feelings that 
rose in her heart and sang as she never sang before 
in her life. She was as beautiful as a dream as she 
stood warbling her notes, dressed in shimmering 
white silk and lace, which hung in rippling waves 
all about her superb form and swept around and 
nearly encircled the tall, slender but graceful page 
who stood a little in the background, dressed in the 
richest of black velvet. His hair was like his 
mother s, white as snow, a mark she had given 
him at his birth, and Prince dsi Monti Serrati was 
confounded indeed as he gazed in breathless 
wonder upon them, and he thought while yet he 
knew her well how little the magnificent woman 
of the world bore any resemblance to the trusting 
and innocent Millicent Livingston whom he had be- 


78 


OUR CHILD. 


trayed eleven years before. His heart beat so 
high that the Duke of Claiborne heard it, and rising 
from his chair he went and stood behind the prince 
and said in some alarm, 

“ What is it, Monti Serrati ? My good fellow, 
it cannot be that you know the prima donna ! ” 

“ Know her ! ” repeated the prince in passionate 
tones. Then he immediately recovered himself, and 
said more quietly and cautiously, “ Tell me, pray, 
who is she, Claiborne, and where did she come 
from ? ” 

“ Ah, my friend, that is the mystery that sur- 
rounds her; no one in all Paris knows anything 
about her — only that she came from America and 
her son bears the name Truston America. Odd, 
is it not 

“ Very,’' replied the prince; “ when she is a 
thorough-born Englishwoman, I know. No doubt 
the little fellow first opened his eyes somewhere in 
the States, hence that name. Strange, strange, in- 
deed ! ” he muttered under liis breath. “ In all my 
wanderings in the last ten years, to go to America 
never once entered my brain,’' and while the lovely 
songstress was sending out her silvery voice the 
prince was living over again his blissful life in the 
old mountain house in Switzerland. It seemed to 
him but yesterday ; and yet eleven years had passed 




OUR CHILD. 79 

since then, and while eleven years is only a drop 
in the bucket of time, to a human being it is every- 
thing. How many at the beginning of that era 
have stood in their affluence and looked down as it 
were while passing their weak judgment upon their 
more unfortunate brothers, and have thought as 
they chuckled in their conceit that temptation, 
trouble, perplexity and remorse would never assail 
them; but time, that stern old teacher, hurls with 
contemptuous force the fact back into our faces that 
we are nothing but toys in his hands. 

The prince was so far lost in thought that he 
hardly realized it when the curtain went down and 
shut away the diva from his sight, but the clamor 
was so great for her reappearance that it awakened 
him again into life and interest in people and things 
about him. Looking up once more, he said to his 
friend, in quite an off-handed manner, “ Madame 
Millicent is very popular indeed L” 

The duke made him no answer whatever, but he 
thought “ the prince only seeks to deceive me now 
with such a commonplace remark ; perhaps he 
thinks I have been blind all this time, and have not 
seen the color come and go in his cheeks, and his 
eyes dull at first, then lighting up with some 
pleasant memory. Ha, ha ! My name is not, and 
never has been, Claiborne, if Monti Serrati has not 


So 


OUR CHILD. 


seen before this night Millicent who is driving 
Paris wild with her delicious voice and the ineffable 
mystery that surrounds her past.” 

Slowly rises the curtain once more, revealing the 
beautiful songstress standing in a most striking and 
graceful attitude, holding her little son by the hand 
while her eyes like living fire rested on the face 
of the prince alone. Did he know her ? Yes, for 
many a time had he beheld her in that attitude, 
while only once before had her eyes shone like 
fire, and that was when he renounced her in the 
old house on the mountain. Hardly before the 
curtain touched the floor again the prince had 
vanished from his box. 


CHAPTER XIII. 


“ The fool hath said, ‘ There is no God/ 

No God! Who lights the morning sun, 

And sends him on his heavenly road, 

A far and brilliant course to run ? ” 

It was a morning in early May, and just such a 
morning as sometimes dawns upon this earth and 
makes us feel all the happier for its brightness. In 
her elegant boudoir in Paris by an open window 
sat Millicent gazing out upon that splendid city 
and drinking in the fresh beauty of the morning. 
At her feet on a low stool reclined her little son, 
with his head resting in her lap. On her sweet 
face there was a smile when at last he looked up 
and spoke: 

“ Mamma, I am so anxious for the time to come 
for us to go to England. I want to see my Grand- 
father Livingston and Maggie Conroy, and your 
old home. Tell me, is your home very beautiful? 

“ I think so, Truston. In fact I call it the love- 
liest spot on the face of this earth. You can wan- 
der along the road-sides in the spring-time and see 


82 


OUR CHILD. 


the fresh green grass peeping forth from some 
neglected corner and the climbing vines putting 
forth their little tendrils, preparing to mount a wall 
or some old castle, while the music of the silvery, 
winding streams keeps perfect time to the songs 
of the birds.’’ 

“ Oh, mamma, how lovely,’’ he cried, as he rose to 
his feet and wound his arms about her neck. “ And 
can I run in the fields with Don, the dog you have 
so often told me about, and who has been in Eng- 
land with my grandfather ever since I was born ? ” 

“ Yes, child, you may; and Pet the horse shall 
also be yours ; with her you can wander to your 
heart’s content all around that country far and 
near.” 

“No one ever had such a beautiful mamma as 
I,” he cried, while tears of pleasure and anticipation 
glistened in his dark eyes; but suddenly they were 
interrupted in their conversation by hearing a rap 
upon the door; then it was pushed slightly ajar, and 
a servant entered bearing a card in his hand. 

Bon jour, madame,” he said a3 he bent very 
low before her, at the same time p/esenting the 
card. She took it, and carelessly glanced at it. 
In an in-stant, as it were, all the world became dark 
to her. 

Yet she said to the domestic, with no visible 


OUR CHILD. 83 

emotion, “ Say to Monsieur le Prince that I will be 
down in a moment.’' 

After the Frenchman had gone she flung her 
arms around Truston’s neck, and cried, “ O my 
son, my son, God help us both.” 

“ Mamma, what is the matter? ” cried he in gen- 
uine alarm. 

“ Nothing, my child; do not be frightened, but 
hie to your room for a short time and I will go 
down- stairs; then, when I return I will call Char- 
lotte, and you and she may go out for a long stroll; 
and now, Truston, think no more of what I said a 
moment ago. I was slightly shocked, that is all, 
for this card I hold in my hand bears the name of 
a very old acquaintance of mine, and naturally, 
after not seeing him for over ten years, and sud- 
denly beholding his name on paper, and knowing 
he is waiting to see me in the parlor below, would 
unnerve even a stronger person than myself.” 

“ Certainly it would, mamma,” said Truston, with 
a reassured smile; “but tell me his name, then I 
will leave you.” This was not just what she ex- 
pected from him, and she never knew and could 
never tell to her dying day how she came to speak 
the name Prince dsi Monti Serrati to her son ; and 
as soon as it left her lips she became cold and faint 
with fright, and though her senses were confused 


S4 


OUR CHILD. 


and almost benumbed, she heard him repeating over 
the name of the prince as he left her side to go to 
his room. When he was gone she rose from her 
chair, smoothed down the folds in her soft rich black 
dress and quietly enough left the room. She wan- 
dered down the long flight of stairs more like a 
somnambulist than anything else, and on until she 
reached the parlor. 

At last she stood in the presence of the one 
who years before had forsaken her for pleasures 
exciting and meretricious that so soon lost their 
charm for him. What he had made up his mind, 
however, to say to her before she entered, he said 
not. Rising from a chair, he only staggered toward 
her, holding out his hand and calling “ Millicent! ” 
in a voice that would have made the angels weep. 
Now, after eleven years he was wholly in her 
power. The consciousness of the fact did not elate 
her as it would many another woman. On the 
contrary, it revived her senses, and awoke her 
again to her old self; for a love like Millicent s 
once cruelly slain never again regains its old-time 
fire, now and then a flame may shoot up, but it 
soon dies down, while only the memory of what 
has been lives. Passing her hand once or twice 
over her eyes, she spoke, and this is what she 
said i 


OUR CHILD. 85 

^‘Tell me, pray, why you have intruded upon 
my solitude this morning ? ” 

She did not seek to deceive him with her iden- 
tity, for that would have been useless ; she was 
born with but one voice, the prince knew all too 
well, and those eyes that shone upon him were the 
only ones that had haunted him for more than ten 
years. 

“ O Millicent,” he groaned, “ is your heart dead 
to me forevermore ? Can you, and will you not 
look upon me with pity and say you forgive me ? 
I have wronged you, I know, and God alone 
knows how I have suffered; but I am willing to 
atone for all the thoughtless cruelty of the past. 
Speak ! ” he cried as he went down upon his knees 
before her. “ Say that you forgive me and will 
love me once again ! 

Even as she had pleaded he was now pleading 
before her. Would she show him mercy or cast 
him aside, as he had done with her ? She would 
do neither; she would speak as her heart felt; and 
folding her arms tightly across her breast, she said, 
while she looked straight into his upturned eyes : 

“ Prince dsi Monti Serrati, my heart lies buried 
in the ruins of the old house on the top of that 
mountain in Switzerland. You it was who taught 
me my first hard lesson in life nearly eleven years 


86 


OUR CHILD. 


ago; the time is past; I am no longer that inno- 
cent, trusting Millicent Livingston that so humbly 
bent before you for mercy, while you heartlessly 
denied it, neither am I a woman to place my heart 
in your keeping a second time.” 

Now, he stood with folded arms and an ashen, 
pale face before her, and while he looked down 
upon her in great admiration — for in spite of all he 
could not help it — his heart beat like mad, and 
when he tried to speak his tongue seemed para- 
lyzed. In all his life before he never dreamed of 
meeting a woman like this; yet he loved her now 
with a love akin to madness, and while he longed 
to throw his arms about her and clasp her to his 
heart, the power of motion for the time 'being was 
denied him; he could only look at her in speechless 
wonder. Her eyes, beautiful beyond description, 
were looking bravely into his, while her soft black 
dress hung in seductive folds about her magnih- 
cent form ; her clear white face, so perfectly shaped, 
was encircled with hair white as snow, but artisti- 
cally arranged and becoming to the last degree. 
And this was the Princess dsi Monti Serrati, whom 
all Paris was raving about, though they knew it 
not, and the prince himself little, dreamed that this 
beautiful, refined creature belonged to him and him 
alone by the tie of marriage. 


OUR cMild. 87 

“ Now I must go, for Truston is waiting for me," 
she said as she turned to leave him. 

For an instant his voice came back to him and 
he faltered, “ Stay, Millicent, yet a moment longer, 
and tell me truly, who is the little white-haired 
fellow you call Truston ? " 

A scornful smile parted her lips as she replied, 
“ The Prince dsi Monti Serrati asks me a question 
I positively refuse to answer." 

Then it came to him perhaps she had married 
soon after he left Switzerland, and the very 
thought nearly drove him wild with jealousy, and 
while his eyes lit up with a dangerous fire his breath 
came hot and quick ; bending quite low over her, 
he whispered, “ O! Millicent, can it, be that you are 
married and to some one else ? " 

Again, she smiled a smile that made him furious. 

“ Answer me," cried he. O for the love of 
heaven have mercy." 

“ Have mercy ! " she repeated under her breath, 
as she lowered her head before him and placed her 
hand over her heart, as though to quiet its painful, 
tumultuous beating. 

“ Yes, have [mercy," cried he once again, and 
this time his voice rang piteously through her 
brain, awaking all the bitter disappointments and 
sufferings of the past years; a second or two elapsed 


88 


OUR CHILD. 


before she raised her head and spoke these words 
in a voice the natural music of which was enhanced 
by the deepest mingling of emotion and sorrow. 

“ Prince dsi Monti Serrati, many years and hun- 
dreds and hundreds of hours have passed away 
since that morning that I knelt at your feet and 
buried my face in Don’s white silky coat, and shed 
such passionate tears. Tears such as I had never 
shed before. Ah ! Monsieur le Prince, think you 
that I shall ever forget your cruelty of that morn- 
ing?” 

Millicent saw him turn livid, and then when he 
glanced rapidly at her face flush a deep red. Still 
she had no pity for him, and when he tried to speak 
to her again, she stopped him with these words in 
his native tongue, “ A causa persa parole assai.” * 
and before he could possibly catch his breath again 
she had turned and gone from the room, and only 
a polite French servant waited just without the 
parlor door to show him out. Confused, yet 
teeming over with love, regret and anger, he 
walked with bowed head through her doors, and 
out into the open air, repeating with it all in a kind 
of a whisper as he went, “ Such mercy as you show 
unto others will also be shown unto you.” 


* When the cause is lost words are useless. 


CHAPTER XIV. 


“ 'Tis impotent to grieve for what is past, 

And unavailing to exclaim.” 

To say Millicent was not affected and terribly 
wrought upon by the meeting with Prince dsi 
Monti Serrati would be untrue. It is impossible 
for any of us to forget or even ever become wholly 
indifferent to that which we have possessed and 
enjoyed. At one time in her life he had been her 
only thought and feeling, and to this day he might 
even have been the same, had he not thoughtlessly 
destroyed that devotion, leaving only broken hopes 
for her memory to feed upon. After so uncere- 
moniously withdrawing from the prince s presence, 
she immediately hastened to her chamber and 
sought refuge in the arms of her son, who supported 
her head while wild sobs rent her frame, and tears 
like rain drenched her face and hands. 

“ O, mamma ! ” cried Truston, “ tell me who it 
is that has done all this. It cannot be Prince dsi 
Monti Serrati ! ” 


go 


OUR CHILD. 


She suddenly began to realize how strange her 
conduct must appear to the little fellow, when she 
caught the tone of alarm in his voice, and raising 
her head from out his arms, she made a desperate 
effort to quiet the storm that was raging in her 
bosom. After a little she said, “Truston, I am 
nervous, that is all.’' But this time he did not be- 
lieve her, and a great resentment rose in his heart 
toward the prince, as he quickly resolved in his 
mind to go to him, and ascertain the reason why 
he had come to Paris to raise such a commotion in 
his mother’s heart. He would see what it all meant, 
and at once too, and placing her head back on the 
soft cushions of the chair she was sitting on, he 
kissed her very affectionately on her tear-stained 
face and said, 

“ Mamma, please do not cry and worry any more, 
but just look at me while I tell you this is positive- 
ly the last time any man, even if he is a prince, 
comes into this house to insult you.” 

“ Why, Truston, my dear child, the prince did 
not insult me this morning ! What strange notions 
you have gotten into your head ! ” 

It is all very well for you to talk like that, 
mamma, but women do not cry as you have for 
nothing. The prince is none too good to offend 
you, and I know it.” 


OUR CHILD. 


91 


“ Child, what do you know of the prince ? ” she 
inquired in some surprise. 

“ Well, I know a great deal about him ; and now 
that you have asked me, I will tell you, for there is 
no harm in your knowing it, if I do." 

“ Certainly not, Truston; go on." 

“ While I was walking with my nurse the other 
day in the park," he said, “ I overheard this remark, 
‘ No one, save Prince dsi Monti Serrati, has been 
talked of so much in Paris for many a day as 
Madame Millicent.’ Then they passed on and 
naturally enough after that I asked Charlotte to 
tell me something about him, which she did, and 
how at one time he fairly turned his magnificent 
palace into a perfect den of wickedness and vice 
that even ^staggered Paris. Only think of it, 
mamma ! " cried he, in innocent, childish conster- 
nation. “Yet Charlotte said she wished she had 
been there to see the fun." 

A slight smile parted Millicent s lips as she 
thought how sweet and innocent he was indeed. 

“ Why have you never told me this before ? " 
she inquired, as she wound her arm about his neck 
and drew his face down to hers^ 

“ Simply because I thought you did not know 
him, mamma. Then, again, you always have so 
much to think about, I do not like to worry or 
annoy you with what I hear and see.” 


92 


OUR criiLU. 


Thoughtful little fellow ! she said, as she kissed 
him over and over again. “ But come now, we will 
talk no more of the prince, for it is time for you to 
call Charlotte and go for your morning stroll.” 

“ Very well, mamma; here is a good-bye before 
I am off,” as he finished speaking he took her 
lovely face between his little hands and gave her a 
laughing, hearty kiss on her rounded, rosy lips. 
Then he was gone, and Millicent was alone once 
more. She rose from her chair and went and flung 
herself face downward on a couch, and recklessly 
gave herself up to grief and thought ; and yet, she 
was only one among thousands that are bearing 
their part in similar stormy scenes of life. 


CHAPTER XV. 


“ Love! What a volume in a word — 

An ocean in a tear.” 

Some half hour or more after Truston parted 
with his mother, he and Charlotte, his nurse, were 
speedily making their way toward Prince dsi Monti 
Serrati’s palace; yet all the while Charlotte had her 
doubts and misgivings concerning the propriety 
and safety of the step they were about to take. 
But the little fellow, through his remarkably win- 
ning and agreeable ways, had completely wound 
her around his finger, so to speak, and her very 
will was subservient to his. Truston had had but 
a very short time to mature his plans in, yet he 
knew, or at least thought he knew, what he should 
say to that wicked prince who had caused his 
mother to weep such bitter tears. 

“ Ah ! ” groaned Charlotte, as they began to 
mount the marble steps that led to the main en- 
trance of the great white marble palace, “ are you 
not afraid of this mighty prince, Truston ? Per- 
haps after all our visit here will be useless. What 

93 


94 


OUR CHILD 


think you, had we not better turn back ere it is too 
late ? ” 

“ Charlotte,” said he, as he straightened his slen- 
der figure up to its full height, “ I am not so easi- 
ly vanquished.” 

Yet, Truston, he may not even grant you a 
hearing.” 

“ Enough ! enough ! ” he cried, somewhat impa- 
tiently. “ If he is at home I want to see him, for 
I must protect my mother against future advances 
and insults from Prince dsi Monti Serrati. Now, 
Charlotte, do not become timid, but stand up 
bravely and follow me, and all will be well.” 

She listened to him with somewhat of an incredu- 
lous smile playing about her large, weak mouth. 

Still again she faltered, “ If your mother only 
knew what you are about to do, think you she 
would like it ? ” 

“ Charlotte, you tire me,” he said, with a little 
laugh, and immediately as he finished speaking he 
touched a bell; soon the door swung open, and 
they stepped through into a magnificent, massive 
hall. For a moment Truston was completely lost 
in childish wonder and admiration at the beauty of 
everything his eye chanced to light upon. 

“ O my!” cried he, quite forgetting himself and 
the mission he had come on. “ How perfectly 


OUR CHILD. 


95 


wonderful this all is! I do honestly think it goes 
far ahead in everyway of the Cathedral; don’t you, 
Charlotte ? ” 

The Cathedral, by the way, being the only build- 
ing of note he had visited since living in Paris. 
He did not seem to hear or even see the two 
French domestics as they spoke to him, then stood 
by his side awaiting his order ; neither did he no- 
tice the prince, as he came walking slowly out from 
one of the apartments near at hand. For an in- 
stant Monsieur le Prince was somewhat surprised 
to witness so unexpectedly two visitors standing 
in his hall. But surprise soon gave way to great 
and intense pleasure as he gazed upon the hand- 
some boy whom he quickly recognized as being 
Madame Millicent’s son. 

“ Ha ! ha ! ” he laughed, as he quietly advanced 
and gently laid his hand on the lad’s shoulder. 

Truston started, and glancing up into his face 
immediately recovered his presence of mind, and 
inquired, greatly to every one’s amusement, “ Is 
the prince at home ? ” 

As much as he and Charlotte had heard of Prince 
dsi Monti Serrati; yet neither of them knew him 
by sight, and naturally enough Truston supposed, 
after all the exaggerated stories his nurse had 
gathered from gossips, and others she had concoct- 


96 


OUR CHILD. 


ed from her own lively imagination and poured 
into his untaught ears concerning him, that of course 
he would be ushered into their presence with great 
pomp and ceremony; therefore he had not the 
slightest idea who it was that stood looking down 
upon him with eyes so full of fire and admiration. 

While a smile lit up his face, Monsieur le Prince 
repeated, “ Is the prince at home ? Well, my lit- 
tle lad, follow me and I will see. By the way, are 
you very anxious to see him and talk with him ? 

“ Yes, very,” emphasized Truston, with a grace- 
ful gesture of the hand, which apparently pleased 
the prince, for he laughed outright as he caught up 
the child’s hand and shook it warmly, saying under 
his breath at the same time, Evidently he does 
not know me, and it is just as well, too.” 

Then he led him away to the farther extremity 
of the hall, and Charlotte saw them disappear 
through an open door. Turning to one of the 
servants, she inquired in her native tongue who 
the gentleman was who had so unceremoniously 
carried her charge away. 

“ Don’t you know ? ” cried he in some astonish- 
ment. 

“ I do not,” she promptly replied. 

“ Then mum is the word,” he said with an ag- 
gravating laugh, as he slapped his slender hand 


OUR CHILD. 


97 

over his mouth and quickly withdrew from her 
side. 

Suddenly it occurred to her it might be the 
prince himself, and an expression of genuine con- 
tempt for herself and her great stupidity, passed 
over her countenance and she thought: “ What a 
fool those fellows must think I am, not to know 
the prince when his face is familiar to every man, 
woman, and child in Paris.” 

In the elegant apartment at the further extremity 
of the hall, however, an entirely different scene was 
being enacted. The prince, reclining on a low 
divan, was gazing intently into the dark, brilliant 
eyes of the little, white-haired fellow who stood by 
his side asking him once again, if he could not see 
the prince. Some time elapsed, however, before 
he received this reply, 

“ My dear child, I fear you will have to content 
yourself with me alone to-day, for the prince is not 
feeling'well.” 

“ But,” interrupted Truston, “ I must see him. 
Tell me, please, monsieur, where I can find him, 
and I will go to him at once.” 

“ Well, first, my young friend, what is the nature 
of your business with him ? ” 

“ I have come to see him about my mother.” 

“ Your mother, child ! Tell me, did she send you 
here ? ” 


98 


OUR CHILD. 


“ O, no, no ! " cried Truston. “ I came of my own 
accord. He insulted my mother this morning in 
our house, and I have come to warn him against 
ever doing such a thing again. There is no one to 
protect her while she is in Paris but me, and I 
shall do it with all my might — do you hear ? 
cried he as he brought his little foot firmly down 
with a ring upon the highly polished floor. 

“ Indeed I do, my brave little companion,” replied 
the prince, as he sprang upon his feet and caught 
the boy up in his arms and strained him to his 
breast. After a moment, however, he released 
him; this time, sat down and drew Truston close 
up to his side, and almost whispered in his aston- 
ished ears, “ What gave you the impression that 
the prince insulted your mother this morning ? ’’ 

“ Only this,” replied the boy in a truthful, inno- 
cent tone; “ after he had gone from our house, 
mamma came to me and with her face on my 
shoulders she cried and moaned as though her 
heart would break. It was more than I could en- 
dure, for she is so good and beautiful I cannot bear 
to see. her suffer for one instant even. Although 
she tried to deceive me the least bit by saying she 
was nervous and all that sort of thing, but I knew 
better. Prince dsi Monti Serrati I know, and feel, 
has in some way caused her great pain. That is why 


OUR CHILD. 


99 


I am here, monsieur, to warn him, that is all, and to 
say to him he must never put his foot into our 
house again." 

The prince shook his head in actual pain as he 
witnessed the look of fierce determination that had 
settled upon his young visitor s face. 

“ Still,” he replied, ‘T can do no less than com- 
municate your decision to him as soon as possible. 
Yet, Truston do you really believe he is such a 
cruel, wicked man as the world has tried to make 
him out to be ? ” 

“Yes, I do,” he promptly replied, at the same 
time sending a thrill of intense agony through the 
prince’s heart. 

“ Then you could never love him, child; but do 
you think you could like me ? ” 

“ Indeed I could,” said Truston, in a sweet voice, 
as he placed his hand on the prince’s pale cheek. 
“ But, monsieur, will you please tell me what you 
are to him ? ” 

“ Well, Truston, I am his only friend, his nearest 
relative, and worst enemy.” 

“ How strange ! ” murmured the boy, utterly un- 
able to catch the full meaning of the answer. 

“Yes, child, it is curious, but let me tell you I pity 
this poor foolish prince, for the people little un- 
derstand him; and he knows himself not at all; for as 


100 


OUR CHILD. 


each day comes it develops some new feature or trait 
in his character that astonishes even himself, but if 
this same prince bad been born a poor man, he would 
have followed with untiring energy every intellect- 
ual pursuit, and the years would have crowned his 
career with glory and success. On the contrary, 
however, he was cradled in the lap of luxury. He 
had too much money to work, and too much money 
to spend, yet, again, Truston, he is not half as bad 
as you think him. Years and years ago, when a 
little fellow, he was just as pure and innocent as 
you are now; he loved his mother even as you 
love yours; but before he reached the age of ten 
she was taken away from him, and he was placed 
in the hands of strangers, his father having died 
some two months before he was born.” 

“ Had he no relatives ? ” inquired Truston, with 
a peculiar, keen feeling of pity stealing over him 
for the prince. 

“ Relatives, child! Think you he would have gone 
to them? No, strangers he always preferred, for 
more often he found in them kinder and more 
thoughtful and truer friends; but at last he grew to 
be a man and an heir of millions, and he began a 
journey around the world in his magnificent yacht. 
At first, every thing was new to him, and it pleased 
him greatly; but when that journey came to an 


Our child, 


ioi 


end and his vessel in the harbor from which it 
started, he began to look around him for new and 
morC' exciting pleasures. It was no difficult thing 
for him to find them; but the day came when he 
tired of it all, for he had seen too much, and he 
longed for something, he hardly knew what. So 
fate guided him into England, and there he met a 
young woman whom he fell desperately in love 
with. My child, I cannot describe her beauty and 
purity to you, it was so marvelous. Then, again, 
she was the first woman of that kind he had ever 
met, for chastity, somehow, had never before fallen 
in his path, and it at once created a great desire and 
curiosity in him; for this prince dearly loved to find 
something fresh and new: and for the first time in 
all his life, though he knew it not at that time, he 
had sincerely found love; he even felt as Tupper 
describes it: 

“ Love ! What a volume in a word, an ocean in a tear, 

A seventh heaven in a glance, a whirlwind in a sigh. 

The lightnii% in a touch, a millennium in a moment.” 

“ His passion became so great to possess this 
prize that he never stopped to think, in his selfish- 
ness, of her purity, her devotion; but he followed 
her in about the same manner as he had hither- 
to other women, and when once the deed was done, 


i62 


O0R CHILD. 


he experienced a few sharp twinges of remorse. 
However, they passed over for a time when he 
carried her into Eden, and perfect happiness was 
their portjon for a few months. Then, my child, 
the prince returned to his old self, and fled from 
that paradise, and returned to his former life, only 
to find it wasteful, confusing and barren, and while 
the man plunged desperately into pleasure and 
folly, his heart was far away on that mountain in 
Switzerland. Only one beautiful woman’s eyes, 
and only one sweet voice haunted him day and 
night, though he laughed at himself and said it 
could not be possible, yet it was, and when one 
night right in this great palace he reached the 
height of vice, remorse walked quickly and un- 
relentingly in and put a check-rein on his passions, 
and that night the old prince died. The morning 
light fell upon a new prince stripped of all folly 
and selfishness — folly and selfishness, did I say ? 
Well; I am not quite sure of that, Truston. Any- 
way the morning dawned upon a mind at last capa- 
ble of knowing the difference between true happi- 
ness and the imitation of it ; but the knowledge 
came, as it always does in this world to such as he, 
too late; and when he went back to find the 
mistress of his heart and to repair all damages 
wrought by his cruel, thoughtless tongue, he found 


OUR CHILD. 


163 

she had long ago gone away, and only the ashes 
of a broken, miserable life remained to remind him 
of ‘ what might have been.' After that he became 
a wanderer; everywhere he went he looked 
anxiously for her ; but he could not find her — till 
after — ” 

Here Xfuston interrupted, “ Do you think, my 
good monsieur, that the prince has lost her for- 
ever ? ” 

“ I fear he has, child ; for he did her a terrible 
wrong, and she will not or cannot forgive him.” 

Truston was not like other children; he had 
been brought up almost entirely among grown 
people, which made him very thoughtful, and by 
nature he had been endowed with more wisdom 
than many boys far beyond him in years; he there- 
fore understood — if not quite thoroughly, every 
thing the prince had said — enough, however, of 
the conversation to make a great and wonderful 
impression upon his young heart. 

“ And now, Truston, I am done with the story 
of his life,^’ said the prince, “ what do you think 
of him ? ” 

“ I can hardly say,” replied Truston, as he took 
the prince’s cold hand in one of his; “ for it seems 
more like a fairy-tale than anything else. Still 
if I had been the woman, I think, — yes, I am quite 


104 


OUR CHILD. 


sure, I should forgive him after I found he had 
suffered, and was sorry for what he did; but with 
it all I should never want him to live with me 
again.” 

The prince started at these words coming from 
one so young, and snatching his hand away from 
the child he covered his eyes and groaned aloud: 

“ O my God! will it always be thus with me ? ” 

Truston’s great sympathetic heart began to throb 
for the miserable, unhappy man, and in quite an 
impulsive, childish, confiding manner he threw his 
arms about the prince’s neck and put his face down 
to his and whispered, “ I pity and love you both, 
monsieur; now cheer up, and we will talk no more 
of the prince', since it makes you feel so unhappy.” 

“ O child, child, there is one thing I must ask 
you, and I want you to answer me truly, what is 
your true name ? ” 

Now, the boy straightened up, and putting his 
forefinger on his mouth for a second remained per- 
fectly silent while the different expressions that 
came and went in his face were wonderful to 
behold. 

Why don’t you speak ? ” inquired the prince, 
very gently. “ Tell me, what is the matter ? ” 

“ O nothing,” he replied, with a curious smile. 

Only you have set me to thinking. 


OUR CHILD. 


lOi 

In what way, Truston ? ” 

“ Oh about my name. It is a funny one.” 

“Is it really America, as I have heard ? ” inquired 
the prince in agitated, trembling tones. 

“ Yes, it is. I was named after the country I was 
born in.” 

“ Your father, child, who was he ? ” 

“My father? Weill don’t know, I am sure. 
My mother or someone told me at one time in my 
life he died before I was born; but when I go to 
England I am going to ask my Grandfather 
Livingston, whom I have never seen, all about him. 
Do you know ? ” resumed he, with a merry little 
laugh, “ I am dying to go to England, to see Pet, 
the horse, and Don, the beautiful white dog that 
used to be such a pet, so mamma told me, of my 
father’s, before he died. 

In a moment it all came to the prince. This boy 
who stood in his youthful beauty before him was 
his own. As he gazed upon him, the blood seemed 
to run cold in his veins as he thought how he had 
doubly wronged Millicent Livingston, and humbly 
bending before him he placed his arms around the 
child and said, in a voice hoarse and unnatural, 
“ Truston, my baby, my boy ! ” but he never got 
any farther, for just then Charlotte appeared in the 
doorway with a scared face, holding a little silver 


Io6 OUR CHILD. 

watch in her hand. Truston too became frightened 
as he caught sight of her, and tearing himself from 
the prince’s strong embrace, he ran up to her side 
and glanced at the time-piece she held in her hand. 
It was late and long past the hour he had been in 
the habit of staying out, and he turned quite pale 
as he said, I must go now, monsieur, for I am 
awfully afraid mamma is worrying about me 
already; for she has not the faintest idea of where 
I am ; but before I leave you, you will promise 
me, won’t you, that you will tell Prince dsi 
Monti Serrati word for word what I said when I 
first came into the room ? ” 

“ You can rely upon me, child,” said he, as he 
bent and kissed him upon the brow ; for was he not 
his own flesh and blood? Yes; and when the door 
closed behind the child and nurse, the prince 
became confused with thought and staggered and 
would have fallen had he not thrown his arm about 
an old-fashioned wooden clock that stood near the 
door. As he did so, it slowly and solemnly told 
the hour of two; he glanced in a bewildered way 
up at the long, slender pointed hands on the white 
face that were and had been faithfully and untiringly 
working for time for many, many years and even 
long before the prince was born. This was neither 
a great nor costly thing; yet, kings, queens, princes 


OUR CHILD. 


107 


and princesses and the greatest and smallest people 
that have lived have paused before it, then hastened 
on, for it told them the story of time, which is more 
mysterious to mortals than life itself. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

“ Let each man to his post assigned 
By nature take his part to act, 

And then few causes shall we find 
To call each man we meet a quack.” 

This is a world we never stand still in; we either 
advance or go backward, either grow better or 
worse, or become something or nothing; and Prince 
dsi Monti Serrati in his own estimation suddenly 
found himself gradually going to naught, and it 
would never do. 

“ This is all very well,” said he to himself, “ this 
going on and walking as it were in a righteous, 
submissive path ; but I am growing in years, and 
all my happiness is fast vanishing from me. I know 
now I thoughtlessly threw away a gem in my 
youth, but the desire has become so great with 
me again to possess it that I feel my old stormy, 
passionate nature awakening into life and action 
once more.” 

Then he stopped, opened the door, and listened 
for a second, hoping that he might still hear little 

108 


OUR CHILD. 


109 


Truston s footsteps in the great marble hall. It 
was truly a ridiculous thing to do, for the child had 
been gone from the palace nearly four hours ; hear- 
ing nothing, he close,d it again; then taking a little 
silver case from his pocket he busied himself in 
choosing a cigar, and when at last it was lit and 
between his teeth, he settled down in a large easy 
chair, and a smile sure enough full of the old-time 
passion gradually began to play around his perfect 
features, and it was a smile that threatened danger 
to the object of his thoughts unless she thoroughly 
and unrestrainedly yielded to his desire. 

“ She is mine ! cried he aloud. “Yet I have 
no right to claim her — mine by the law of love, 
still she repulses me. I have wandered every- 
where in the last ten years to find her, and now, 
while only a few blocks divide us, I am farther 
away from her than I have ever been in all my life 
before. Oh God ! ” cried he, “ this cannot, and shall 
not be. 

“ What on earth is there more powerful than 
love ? ” he continued. “ Nothing ! I love Millicent, 
and my strength or my courage shall not fail me 
till I have held her in my arms, and she has spoken 
that one little word, Forgiven. I know I destroyed 
her life — fool that I was! — when I abandoned 
her in Switzerland; but ere three months had 


no 


OUR CHILD. 


passed away it was impossible for me to move my 
hand or turn my head unless I thought of her, 
and now that feeling has grown to such a propor- 
tion, that her scorn and resistance of this morning 
only madden me and quicken my pulses with new 
life and energy to pursue her, till she inclines her 
will to mine. Ha ! ha ! I would not be Prince dsi 
Monti Serrati — ’’ 

He laughed almost monomaniacally. 

“ — if for one moment I tarried and allowed this 
woman to again escape me. I now have but one 
thought and that is of her. She is so provokingly 
beautiful ! If words from my tongue cannot bring 
a reconciliation about, then through her little son I 
shall accomplish my end. Again, it is not to be 
wondered at that Paris is raving about her, for her 
voice is delicious, and has only ripened with the 
years; but the people shall claim her no longer after 
to-night; no, not even this night shall they be- 
hold her face,” cried he in a kind of jealous rage. 
With a sudden impulse he sprang to his feet, mut- 
tering between his teeth, “ I have it, I have it. 
Yet, Millicent, my love, this would never have 
entered my head if you had only been kind to me 
this morning; but you were not, and you have 
driven me mad, and I shall take your child away 
from you and imprison him in my old German 


OUR CHILD. 


Ill 


castle till you yield to my wishes. It may take 
years till you utterly surrender, but I will follow 
you even like a shadow till you do it.” When the 
prince’s mind was made up no power on earth could 
change it. There was no obstacle or difficulty but 
he could surmount somehow. Then again, he was 
like almost every other human being, perfectly 
inconsistent; all influences, no matter how good, 
failed to make any impression upon him when 
temptation lay in his path. Someone has said, and 
very wisely too, “ To resist temptation is no easy 
matter when all the heaven-born aspirations of the 
soul make a common cause with evil, and then our 
consciousness perplexed amid blinding cross-lights 
yields the guidance of our destinies to despair.” 
Therefore it stands to reason that there is no one 
perfectly good, or yet altogether wicked, and 
Prince dsi Monti Serrati was not a model of ex- 
cellence in his own estimation, by any means, or, 
as you already know, in the estimation of people in 
general. Still this same prince had been born with 
no ordinary mind, and he had deeper and stronger 
propensities to fight than the every-day man; and 
while he would sincerely listen one day to the good 
teachings and instincts of his better nature, the 
next he had forgotten all about it. And when 
truth came bearing the tidings that he loved Milli- 


II2 


OUR CHILD. 


cent Livingston beyond all else in life, and when at 
last it was too late, he awakened to the fact that 
she no longer trusted or worshiped him as in the 
days of yore. It at once ’ created an ungovernable 
fury of madness and passion within him, even kill- 
ing that demon remorse that had during the years 
of his wanderings tormented him. His only thought 
now that he had found her, was. How could he 
best go to work to regain that which had once been 
such a joy to him ? At last he decided on trying ' 
her through the great affection she bore her child/ 
and he honestly believed (quite erroneously) that 
Millicent would sacrifice pride and everything for 
the sake of her boy. 

Having arrived at this conclusion, he walked up 
to a safe that stood in one corner of the room, 
stooped down, unlocked it, and soon brought to 
light a leather bag. Swinging it to and fro in one 
hand, he said, “ This bag contains just fifty thousand 
francs* I will take it with me when I steal into her 
apartments to-night and drop it on her floor. 
Possibly she may need it in the months to come. 
Be it as it may, I will simply do as I said; then I 
will earnestly plead nvith her once again to be my 
wife before I make any effort whatever to capture 
the little fellow. If by chance, however, she does 
nothing of the kind, but chooses to wander till she 


OUR CHILD. 


II3 

finds him. Well, then, where she goes, I go also.” . 

But the color of his face changed and his eye 
flashed fire at the very thought of such a thing. 

“ Her one cry probably will be for her son, 
mine will be for love and mercy, and God grant she 
may speedily look upon me with favor. I know 
she still loves me, it cannot be possible that Milli- 
cent’s passion is dead. O no, no ! It is only 
slumbering. Of that I am quite sure.” 

So saying, this singular prince dropped the bag 
of coins upon the floor, and immediately summoned 
a servant. 

A second only elapsed before a tall, dark, yet 
kindly faced Frenchman put in an appearance. 

“ Monsieur le Prince wishes to speak with me ? ” 
he said in his native tongue. 

‘‘ Yes, Connellas. I have called you early so 
that you may prepare for a journey. 

“ Very well. In everything I am your servant,” 
he said. “ When shall I start } ” 

“ To-nightat eleven o’clock, everything will be so 
arranged that all you will have to do is to stand 
just outside the door on the stone steps that lead 
down into the small garden on the right side of this 
palace. Then I will place in your arms a sleeping, 
unconscious boy. Speak no word to me, neither 
ask me why I command you to bear him away to 


OUR CHILD. 


1 14 

my castle in Germany, you know so well Connellas. 
Two days from this time I will let you know what 
course you are to pursue for the next few months, 
or perhaps for an indefinite term of years.” 

The prince felt a strange ring of certainty in 
each word he uttered while yet he tried to make 
himself believe Millicent would yield to him before 
he even had occasion to put his threats into execu- 
tion. N 

“ And if I am not there at eleven o’clock, Con- 
nellas — ” but he never finished the sentence, fdr 
something told him not to; and while the domestic 
wondered in his mind what it all meant, he wisely 
kept silent, promising to do his best, however cruel, 
heart-rending, or mysterious the case might be. 


CHAPTER XVII. 


“I woo’d thee with my sword, 

And won thy love, doing thee injuries.” 

It is evening, but the gay and luxurious city of 
Paris is so brilliantly illuminated that Millicent can 
almost see, even, as she stands by her window, the 
different expressions on the faces of the individu- 
als as they pass and repass on the walks below her. 

The young, beautiful and light-hearted sweep by 
the old, wrinkled, and the infirm without the 
slightest thought of ever reaching such a period in 
their lives; and while the richest of garments brush 
against the coarse garb of poverty, still on they 
go, each and every one of them bound for some 
destination or other, and she, the moment's pet of 
Paris, stands looking down upon them and won- 
dering in her mind, if there is one among that vast 
throng who feels as lonely and unhappy as she 
does, when lo * her attention is suddenly called to 
a carriage moving slowly along the street, drawn 
by two beautiful white horses. There v/as only 
one occupant in the carriage, and he was careless- 


OUR CHILD. 


ii6 

ly yet gracefully handling the reins, while his white 
face was turned toward her window. 

There was no other such a face in the world, 
and never had she seen but one pair of dark fiery 
eyes like those. For an instant her heart stood 
still; she pressed her brow hard against the win- 
dow-pane and watched him till he was lost to her 
view, then she turned her face from the window, 
moaning as she did so, “ Ah ! Prince dsi Monfi 
Serrati, it is well your lovely steeds have carried 
you so soon from my sight, for those wonderful 
eyes of yours, wherein still dwells spirit and pas- 
sion, cannot awaken again, as they once did, my 
heart into life. You killed my mad love for you 
with your tongue, when that same tongue might 
have woven words that would have made sweet 
heaven still smile upon us.” 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


“ Nor hath love’s mind of any judgment taste, 

Wings, and no eyes, figure unheedy haste.” 

“ And jealous Oberon would have the child.” 

The minutes were closing in on a half hour af- 
ter the event last recorded; now we find Millicent 
bending over her little son where he quietly sat in 
a small low chair in her room, imprinting kiss upon 
kiss on his brow and cheeks as a good night be- 
fore going to the opera. By no word or sign did 
she betray to him the conflict that was going on 
in her heart. The only peculiarity which attracted 
his notice, however, was the passionate, longing 
way in which she was bidding him adieu. 

“ Mamma,’' said he, “ I wish I were going with 
you, for something has been whispering to me the 
whole day through that I ought to go with you to- 
night, so as to accompany you safely home.” 

Millicent laughed outright as she said, “ Nonsense, 
child. There is no danger awaiting me between 
here and the Grand Opera House, I know.” And 
with a sudden impulse she threw her arms around 

117 


OUR CHILD. 


n8 

him and lifted him to his feet, and with his snow 
white head resting on her bosom she continued, 
Truston, my child, say that you love me and will 
pray for me to-night, for your pure, sweet love and 
unselfish prayers, darling, will strengthen me to 
face the great, changeable, curious public once 
more.” 

“ Mamma, I do love you,” said he as he lifted 
his bright, dark eyes to her face, and will pray to 
that God who gave you your sweet voice to aid 
you and take care of you to-night, for it seems just 
as though you and I were going to part for a long 
number of years.” 

Then he laughed low and somewhat sadly at his 
own words. Why they had passed his lips he 
could not tell. Perhaps that strange uncontrollable 
voice of fate had been whispering in his ears. Be 
it as it may. , 

Millicent’s whole frame began to tremble, and a 
palor not unlike that of death overspread her coun- 
tenance. 

O mamma,” he cried in some alarm, “ I did not 
mean to frighten you ! Forgive me this time and 
I will never do it again.” 

But she did not hear him, neither could she speak; 
her voice for the time being had entirely gone from 
her. Her arms fell helplessly to her sides, and she 


OUR CHILD. 


II9 

Stood now looking over his head at an object which 
had suddenly loomed up in the middle of the room, 
as it were by magic, and stood glaring at mother 
and child like a fierce animal about to spring upon 
his unfortunate prey. For a second she actually 
became blind with fear, and her body swayed to 
and fro like a vessel upon the -angry, dangerous 
billows of a stormy sea. 

A last, he moved and let fall upon the floor a 
heavy leather bag he had carried in his right hand. 
This unusual sound prompted the child to turn 
around, and in a moment a smile full of childish 
wonder and pleasure lit up his face. He forgot 
his mother s fear and agony in the delight of once 
more beholding no less a person than his companion 
of the morning. Prince dsi Monti Serrati s palace 
in all its grandeur and brilliancy rose before his 
vision, and a laugh full of innocent glee issued from 
his lips at the remembrance of it. 

“ O ! Monsieur, how glad I am to see you ! ’’ he 
cried as he ran toward him with out-stretched arms. 

The prince, for it was no less a person than he, 
caught the boy up in his arms and said, “Ah ! 
Truston my child, I am quite sure you are going 
to ask me if I delivered your message of this morn- 
ing to that wicked prince; now, I will not keep you 
in suspense; I told him what you said. His reply 


120 


Our child. 


was tnis, ‘ Not for kingdoms would I harm oiie 
hair of Millicent’s head. No, nor will I ever again 
make her suffer for one moment if she will only be 
reasonable.’ ” 

“Reasonable!” repeated Trusto»^ “Ido not 
quite understand you, monsieur.” 

The prince made him no further reply, but stood 
him on the floor again, and smiled at Millicent, and 
it was a smile like the first one that had lightened 
her heart with the grande passion. 

Truston gazed first upon the tall stranger, then 
at his motionless mother; he could hear her heart 
beat from where he stood, and as he watched her 
eyes grow, oh I so black with inward excitement, 
it alarmed him greatly. 

“ O mamma,” he cried as he ran up to her side, 
“ tell me what this all means.” 

She saw that he was frightened, and her voice 
came back ; she forced a faint smile as she quietly 
said, 

“ My darling, there is nothing to fear: now go 
to your room, for I wish to speak with this man 
alone. I shall not go to the opera to-night. Tell 
this to Charlotte, Truston, so that she may impart 
the intelligence to my manager when he calls, 
which he will most surely do in less than half an 
hour. 


OUR CHILf). 


1^1 


But, mamma, they will never let you sing in 
Paris again, if you disappoint them to-night.” 

“ That matters but little, Truston Do as I bid 
you.” 

Without saying one more word, he kissed her 
upon the lips, then turned and left the room to 
communicate the news to Charlotte, with a mind 
in a state of utter confusion and bewilderment. 

He was gone, and once more this strange pair 
were alone — these two that had loved as seldom 
people love in this world. For a moment neither 
of them spoke, but stood very erect and almost 
motionless, gazing upon each other while their 
hearts beat wildly to the passionate, confusing, 
maddening strain of their different minds. But at 
last Millicent spoke: 

Prince dsi Monti Serrati, why came you here 
to-night, to torture me? Heaven would have been 
merciful indeed to have allowed those splendid 
steeds I saw you pass with in the street below 
some half hour ago now, or more — Heaven would 
have been merciful, I say, to have allowed them to 
have borne you away from my sight forever.” 

He neither started nor winced at her words; he 
only stepped slightly forward and said in a low 
tone, “ Ah, Millicent, Heaven is not merciful when 
we wish it to be. But he turned a shade whiter 


122 


OUR CHILD. 


as he resumed, “ I have not come to torture yoii, 
only to plead with you to throw away the horrible 
past from your memory’ and look upon me more 
kindly; I know I deceived you, but — God knows ! — 
I have lived to regret it most bitterly; and, Millicent, 
will you believe me when I say I have suffered even 
as you have ? " 

She bent her head before him, and he thought 
she was gradually relenting in her mind toward him. 

“ Millicent,” he continued, “ none of us are good, 
for if we were this would be no world to live in, no 
world even to sin in, no world for regret or remorse, 
suffering, or pain, or even pleasure. If we lived 
in a world where no storms ever came we would 
be like a great flock of blinded, ignorant people. 
They tell us not till Adam and Eve tasted of the 
tree of knowledge were their eyes opened, and then 
what was the consequence ? Simply shame, suffer- 
ing, and death, and all this was left as a common 
legacy to the millions of Adams and Eves that have 
since that time inherited this planet. Then is it to 
be wondered at that I like all the rest of mankind 
have fallen ? Now lift your head, Millicent, and 
look at me while I beg in the name of God and the 
love you bear our child to come to me and be my 
wife.” 

She did lift her head and looked at him while 
she repeated these two words — 


OUR CHILD. 


123 


“OUR CHILD!” 

“ Yes, bur child, Millicent. I know that he is 
mine.” 

He was standing very close beside her now, and 
all the old eager, passionate, longing love was 
burning in his heart and eyes. He was very hand- 
some, this man with the wild, ungovernable, pecu- 
liar nature, and his voice was low, deep and win- 
ning. Slowly she felt the influence of his subtle 
charms again stealing over her. She raised her 
hand as though to push him to one side: but no 
sooner had she done this than she found it a 
prisoner in his warm one. She tried to snatch it 
away, but all in vain. Just at that moment she 
dared not raise her eyes to his face, for she was 
very weak and faint. 

“ O Millicent I.” he cried, as he bent over her, 
“ only say that you forgive me, and will do what I 
ask ! ” 

Her lips curled slightly, and she was about to 
speak when he stopped her, and fearing all would 
not be well with him, almost whispered: 

“ Remember Truston, Millicent; how will it be 
with him, think you, when he is old enough to 
know and understand all these things ? ” 

She had thought of the child, and much more. 
There was a silence for some short time between 


124 


OUR CHILD. 


them. There was a far-off, dreamy lool^ in her 
eyes, a look of such sad memory and such sup- 
pressed pain that in an instant all the sympathy in 
the prince’s nature was aroused. Every particle 
of color left his face, and his dark eyes actually 
filled with a mist of tears as he gazed upon her. 
But alas ! the expression on Millicent’s face changed 
even as she caught the passing shade of sympathy 
in his; her beautiful eyes looked at him with a proud, 
cold glance: at last her strength came back to her, 
and she steadily and firmly pulled her hand away 
from his. He looked at her and thought, could this 
be Millicent, the woman who had once worshipped 
him ? O Heaven ! such a pain came into his eyes 
that she involuntarily hesitated half a moment be- 
fore she spoke. Then her voice hardened, and 
turning quickly away from him she merely said, 
“ Good-night.’^ 

On the impulse of the moment he followed her; 
before she could possibly reach Truston’s door, he 
was there before her, barring her exit. 

“ Millicent,” he cried, “ be reasonable, speak only 
one word — say that you will be my wife and all will 
be well with you.” 

She shuddered and trembled as she replied, “ No, 
Prince dsi Monti Serrati, I shall never consent to 
live with you again. So God help us both ! ” she 


OUR CHILD. 


125 


cried, as she made a desperate effort to pass him 
and go to her son. 

“ Millicent,” said he, “ if you will not be my wife, 
then I shall have my child." 

“ Hush ! " she cried. “ For Heaven s sake hush, or 
he will hear you. My child, my darling boy to be 
parted from me — never ! " 

“ Hark ! Millicent, and listen while I tell you he 
is mine just as much as he is yours; he is my only 
heir; all my vast wealth and palaces must be his 
some day; his life is just as precious to me as it is 
to you. I love you, Millicent, and do not want to 
and will not harm you if you will only be reasonable 
and come to me and reign in my palace as princess; 
and Truston then will never live to see the day 
that he will curse us both." 

“ Curse us ! " she cried, as she covered her eyes 
with her hands. “ Oh, thank good Heaven he will 
never do that ! " 

And the prince was slightly puzzled at her last 
words; all the old, mad, passionate love for her 
was upon him, though, and she saw it and was at 
last powerless to help herself. Her beautiful white 
head dropped over on one of her shoulders; her 
eyelids closed over her eyes, and he saw that she 
swayed. He placed his arms about her waist and 
asked her once again to be his wife, and her answer 
was, “ No,” 


126 


OUR CHILD. 


It was useless to struggle, to appeal; he was 
strong and his arms were encircled about her in a 
mad embrace. 

“ Ha ! ha ! ” laughed he, “ you will not yield to 
me now, my love, but you shall never escape me 
again.” 

What are you going to do ? ” she said, as she 
looked up into his face. 

“ Only take the boy away.” 

“ Oh ! spare me this,” she cried. “ Do not take 
the child, that is my only life, away from me; he is 
all that I have got to live for.” 

At this he released her, and folding his arms 
across his breast he looked coldly and sternly at her 
as she continued: 

“ Years ago you darkened and spoiled my life; 
when he came into it he was the only ray of light 
and hope that has since that time made my 
existence bearable. Do not ask me again to join 
my future with yours; only leave me now and for- 
ever; that is all I ask. I will take Truston, and 
together we will go to England and to my father. 
My child shall then be brought up in a good way, 
and shall never know that Prince dsi Monti Serrati 
is in any way connected with him.” 

A smile such as she had never seen in all her 
life before on any face overspread his. 


OUR CHILD. 


127 


After a little, however, it died away, and he said, 
“ Millicent, you are a strange woman, and as much 
as you love Truston, you will not save him from a 
dishonorable future; but I will be more merciful 
than you, and save him; and, Millicent, I shall yet 
atone for the one great cowardice of my life. God 
knows I have regretted it! Yet, you will not for- 
give me. Therefore, I am forced to pain your 
heart once more.” 

As he finished speaking, he turned and laid his 
fingers on the knob of Truston’s door. 

“ Have mercy I ” cried she. “ Only save him ! ” 

“ That is just what I am going to do, Millicent;” 

“ And how ? ” 

“ By putting him away from you till you listen to 
the voice of common sense and reason.” 

“ Look ! ” she cried. “ I beg of you once more 
to spare him; leave me all that I love.” 

This seemed to infuriate him. 

“ All that you love I ” he repeated, as he caught 
her by the arm; and v/hile he held her she gradually 
lost all reason, and with a moan she fell back in 
his arms in a state of utter unconsciousness, and 
when she again opened her eyes, he was gone, and 
with him had also disappeared her child. 


CHAPTER XIX. 


“Disdain and scorn ride sparkling in her eyes.” 

It was some time past midnight when Millicent 
found herself alone and almost groping her way 
along the streets of Paris toward Prince dsi Monti 
Serrati s palace. If all the world had passed her 
that night, she would not have known it, neither 
would she have cared. Fear she felt none, and 
danger was far from her; for in appearance she 
looked more like some, strolling gipsy than anything 
else. So on she went, till she reached the palace. 
At her slightest ring the door was immediately 
pushed ajar for her to enter, greatly to her surprise. 

“ This looks as though he was expecting me,’* 
she murmured aloud, as she stepped into the great 
hall. 

“ Madame is right,” said the grim looking porter 
in attendance. “Prince dsi Monti Serrati awaits you 
in his private parlor. By the way, he left an order 
some two hours or more ago for me to stand here 
and wait for you, even till daybreak if necessary.” 

128 


OUR CHILD. 


129 


She said nothing to this, but followed the di- 
rection the French domestic was pointing with his 
forefinger; and as she moved on slowly ahead of 
him he curiously scanned her from head to foot; but 
he could make nothing whatever out of the case; so 
when she disappeared from his view into the 
prince’s parlor he hastened away to his room. 
Millicent found the prince sitting in a massive old 
oak chair, with folded hands and head bent low 
upon his breast, looking for all the world like a man 
bowed in deep grief. His heart almost ceased 
beating altogether when he heard her soft step ; still 
he did not raise his eyes to look upon her. Closer 
she came to him and at last she spoke: 

“ Lift your head and tell me. Prince dsi Monti 
Serrati, what you have done with my child, and 
also tell me what I have done that I deserve all 
this torture and cruelty at your hands.” 

Still his head remained in the same position, and 
this drove her almost to the very verge of 
insanity. 

“You shall speak!” she cried, as she suddenly 
placed her hands under his chin and almost as quick- 
ly brought his face on a level with hers. “ Now 
answer me,” she cried as she looked straight into 
his dark, fierce eyes, “ Where is my boy?” 

Placing her quite gently to one side, he rose 


130 


OUR CHILD. 


to his feet ; folding his arms he looked at her, but 
this time all the fierceness had vanished from his 
face, the better nature now was pleading with the 
passionate, selfish one to yield to her and give her 
back the child; and then, as he was about to give 
up to her, the demon spoke to him, and said, “ She 
will leave you, and perhaps you will never see her 
again.” “ O ! no, no,” cried the man. “ I will 
not tell her, for this little fellow is the only bond 
between us,” and placing his hand on her shoulder 
he said: 

“ Only on one condition, and one alone, Milli- 
cent, will I tell you where Truston is.” 

“And what is that ? ” she inquired. 

“ That you will become my wife.” 

She was at last beyond the power of reason, for 
her soul was on fire with wrath and injustice, and 
again, she was altogether too noble and brave to 
surrender under what she then thought such per- 
nicious circumstances. 

“ No, Prince dsi Monti Serrati,” she finally re- 
plied, “ I will not. I would rather wander for years 
till I found him than yield to you now. Never 
since that morning so, long ago that you deserted 
me, have I ever for one instant had the slightest 
intention of becoming anything more to you again 
in this world. I will remain where your cruelty 


OUR CHILD. 


I3I 

placed me; furthermore, I know not where your 
possessions are, or where your lands, palaces, or 
castles end ; but everywhere I go I shall inquire 
and wander on and on, even if it takes years till I 
find him.’’ 

He started back and looked at her in perfect 
amazement. Yet, her lovely face and magnificent 
figure, and her very resistance now were kindling 
a burning fever within him; he could not put out 
the flame; he could not escape it in any way, try as 
hard as he would: and he became the very demon 
himself. His face grew dark as he continued to 
gaze upon her. It is true he had suffered, but the 
sight of the object of that torture had brought up 
all the old sweet memories within him, and 
awakened again a passion that had never for one 
instant died. 

No pitying angel came to her rescue and she well 
knew as she gazed up into his passionate, unrelent- 
ing face that all pleading, no matter how sorrowful, 
would be in vain. 

Then you will not tell me where Truston is ? ” 
she said. 

“No, Millicent, I cannot. If you had been less 
cruel and unforgiving I would; but your words 
have wrung my heart, and now I care but little 
what becomes of us both. You say you are going 


132 


OUR CHILD. 


to wander till you find him. Very well ; then 
wander, Millicent, but let me tell you before you 
begin your journey that Truston is in good hands 
and will never suffer for the want of a comfort or 
luxury under the sun.” 

“ One thing let me ask/^ said she. “ Is Truston 
in Paris ? ” 

‘‘ No; even now,’’ replied the prince, with a faint 
smile, “ he has almost left the borders of France. 
There is one thing I will agree to do, Millicent. 
If in weeks, months or even years you ever come 
within one mile of Truston’s abode, I will turn your 
face toward it and say, ‘ Your journey is ended.’ ” 

One strange, sad look she gave him, then turned 
and left the palace forever: and from the room and 
through the great white hall and along the streets 
of Paris he followed her, and when another day 
broke upon that great city, Madame Millicent had 
vanished from it, as mysteriously as she had entered 
upon its boards. She was talked of for a time, and 
missed, then she gradually dropped from the minds 
of the people, and something else turned up, as it 
always will, to claim their attention. 


CHAPTER XX. 


“ Swept all my pride away, and trembling I forgave.’* 


Millicent began the search for her son with 
Charlotte as her only companion. Unceasingly 
and untiringly they traveled both night and day. 
They climbed over ridges and hills; they passed 
through dark glens and valleys. Ever in sight, 
yet always too far away to speak to, followed the 
prince. Only when she closed her eyes in sleep 
was he lost to her view. She could also shut her 
door upon him, but if by chance she ever went to 
a window to gaze out he was almost always the 
first object she saw. He had been a great guardian 
though, had this peculiar prince; he had saved them 
from many a danger and protected them from all 
insults and harm on their long and perilous 
journey. 

Millicent was a brave woman, yet sometimes she 
winced and was about to call out, or rush up to his 
side whenever she witnessed him desperately and 
courageously wrestling with danger and trouble— 

133 


i34 


OUR CHILD. 


danger and trouble, too, almost always brought 
about by her fatal, remarkable beauty : but some- 
thing held her back, and she never spoke to him. 

So the years went by in this way till five in 
number had gone; still she had not found Truston. 
At last she became thoroughly disheartened, and 
what was still worse, she found that her strength 
and health were fast going from her. What could 
she do ? What would she do ? Go to the prince 
and implore him to save her once more and give 
her back her child ? Oh no ! no ! she could not 
do that. In fact there -was something about this 
silent prince that almost frightened her; though 
what it was she could not tell. They were in 
Germany now, and she stood close by the Rhine: 
above her on the slope of a mountain rose the old 
grey stone castle that sheltered her son, though 
she little dreamed she was so near him. The 
water tried to stop on its way and whisper the 
intelligence in her ear, but she heeded it not ; 
stretching her arms far above her head, she cried, 
O my God ! I pray that he, the prince, may 
soon speak to me, for I would not die and have 
him following me on and on for ages and even into 
eternity like this." 

As she finished speaking, she turned around, 
when lo ! she beheld the prince moving — yes, 


OUR CHILD. 


^35 


Steadily and surely toward her. Was he going to 
speak to her ? she wondered, and the very idea of 
the thing, after so many years of silence, almost 
paralyzed her. At last, at last, the time had come ; 
he was standing close by her side, and bending 
over her, for she could feel his hot breath fan her 
cheek. ‘‘ Millicent ! " was all he said, but it was 
quite enough. She raised her eyes to his, then a 
great physical weakness overcame her; he saw it, 
and caught her in his arms before she fell. Pillow- 
ing her head upon his shoulder, he turned her pale 
face toward the old castle and said, while tears 
filled his dark eyes, “ Millicent, my love, your 
journey is ended.” 


CHAPTER XXI. 

“ He’s very youthful, 

And strong and beautiful as a young tiger.” 

On the slope of a mountain overlooking the 
beautiful Rhine stood Prince dsi Monti Serrati’s 
castle. It had been a favorite resort of his fathers 
in the days that are past, and many and many a 
joyful as well as sorrowful tale could the old but' 
tressed walls, towers, and terraces relate if only 
they possessed the power of speech. Here it was 
that Truston had spent the last five years, sur- 
rounded by every luxury and advantage that wealth 
could procure, English, French, German, Italian and 
Spanish masters occupying the old castle with him. 
It was one of those days that a kind of dreamy haze 
settles down upon the earth. Truston neither felt 
like study or play ; what to do he hardly knew as 
he stood just outside the castle with a thoughtful 
expression on his handsome face, gazing upon the 
Rhine. He was tall of figure, and for one only 

136 


OUR CHILD. 


137 


fifteen years of age, remarkable for his fine and 
manly proportions. He was sound and strong in 
every faculty of his mind, and every sensibility of 
his soul was teeming over with life. Every day 
now he grew more like his father in appearance, 
but he was wholly unlike him in nature;, and while 
he stood thinking with his white head bared to 
the soft warm air, a gentle sigh, followed by the 
sweetest trill of laughter, greeted his ears. Truston 
turned quickly around and looked full into the 
brightest face in the world, with such eager, almost 
fierce eyes that the owner of that face thought they 
must read her utmost mind. 

“ I did not mean to startle you, Truston,” she 
said in a deep rich tone. 

“Startle me, Beauty! Nonsense! I never Was 
so glad to see any one in all my life before,” he 
said as he caught up her hand and carried it to his 
lips. 

“ I thank you,” she said, this time with a smile 
that set his young heart in a perfect commotion. 
This maiden whom Truston called Beauty was his 
Spanish dancing master s daughter. She was very 
beautiful to look upon, of an extremely dark type, 
with just a visible tinge of carmine showing through 
her dark skin, adding a bewitching luster to her 
large, dreamy eyes. 


138 


Our chilO. 


“Oh, tell me, Beauty,’' he whispered as he bent 
over her, while his lips almost touched the rosy tip 
of her ear, “ are you a truant again this morning ? ” 

She hesitated a second before she spoke, and the 
bright smile she always wore when in his presence 
died away and her eyes grew almost as black as 
midnight, when she said, “ Yes, I am ; but I am 
quite determined I won’t stay shut up in my room 
all the time with an everlasting old bound book 
under my nose. I am no scholar, and never shall 
be, and there is no use in my father’s, trying to force 
knowledge into such a stupid as I. ’Tis infinitely 
more agreeable to me to be in the open air with 
you, Truston.” 

“ Oh ! Beauty, now I thank you ! But for this 
sweet stolen hour, I am afraid your punishment will 
be great. Tell me, you little dark-eyed girl, what 
did your stern father put you at in the line of study 
this morning ? ” 

“ Well, Truston,” and a smile gradually began to 
broaden around her small rosy mouth again as she 
continued, “ that tyrant of a parent of mine said 
I ought to read solid, instructive works, and all 
that sort of thing: so early this morning he brought 
me in a copy of Carlyle’s ‘ French Revolution,’ one 
of those big red copies too. I think I read three 
words on the first page ; but honestly, Truston, it 


OUR CHILD. 


139 


was so dry, and the whole thing puzzled me so, I 
threw down the book in perfect disgust, for if I had 
gone on and read five pages more I would certainly 
have become a perfect lunatic. What do I know 
about revolution anyway ? or what do I care about 
it ?” said she, with a merry laugh; and while Trus- 
ton also laughed heartily at the little Sehorita’s first 
experience at Carlyle s masterly work, he could not 
help feeling pity for her, for she had a stern, cold 
father, who little understood her naturally bright, 
sunny nature. Then again he was a student of the 
old school and thoroughly believed a child was only 
properly brought up under severe discipline and 
with a rod of iron. While Truston and Beauty 
both knew this, they wandered on hand in hand 
almost to the very edge of the land; all the time 
hoping against hope that by chance they might 
escape his sight and wrath for once. They were 
far too young and light-hearted by nature not to 
forget their troubles, and anxieties for a while at 
least in the intense pleasure they both experienced 
in being together. 

At last they reached an iron seat, and he drew 
her gently down upon it. Suddenly, as it were, the 
haze began to lift; the sun came out and shone 
with a dazzling splendor and glory upon the water. 

“ Look ! look ! Is it not lovely, Truston ? " cried* 


140 


OUR CHILD. 


Beauty, while her whole face lit up with a wonderful, 
brilliant expression, showing plainly she was a true 
child of nature. “ Now turn your eyes from the 
Rhine and let them rest for a moment on the other 
side of the castle.” 

Trustbn turned his head as she gently bade him 
do, and beheld a more gorgeous scene than any 
artist ever drew, the landscape was beyond the 
power of a human being to imitate; strive as he 
will, he cannot catch all the passing shades of beauty 
in a scene such as this. 

“ Yes,. it is lovely. Beauty,” he replied, as he drew 
her closer to him. “ But come, tell me, is there 
nothing or anything you love biit nature ? ” 

“O yes, of course there is,” said she, while the 
color deepened on her cheeks. 

“ Then tell me what it is.” 

“ Don’t you know ? ” she inquired, with a tan- 
talizing little smile. 

“ No, I do not,” he replied with his usual candor. 

“ Well, then, if you must know, I love some one 
very' much. Yes, very much indeed; and some- 
times I dream, ah ! so pleasantly about him, and 
whenever I am permitted to be with him I arh so 
happy.” 

“ O Beauty,” he cried, as a little jealous pang of 
iear shot through his heart that possibly it might 


OUR CHILD. 


I41 

be one of the professors in the castle she had be- 
come so attached to. No, it cannot be, it shall 
not be,” he faltered, as he lifted the rich black lace 
mantella she wore on her head but now had pulled 
down over her face to hide the blushes and mis- 
chievous twinkle in her eyes. 

“ Yes, it is,” she laughed, as she quickly dis- 
covered his anxiety. 

“ Which one of the professors is it?” he said, 
without really intending to. 

“O! no, no, Truston; I love no one but — ” 
here she paused, and looked at him, and he read 
her story well. 

“ But me ! ” he cried, in perfect delight. 

Alas ! it is but natural, he lost himself in the 
garden of joy. Suddenly snatching her in his arms 
he imprinted on her soft rosy lips the first kiss 
given any woman before save his mother. 

And on and on rolled the mighty waters of the 
Rhine, as it has done for ages, singing as it went 
on its way the same old story. Wherever you go, 
no tongue, no words can describe the world of 
bliss that lies in the first youthful kiss of love. In 
after years we may laugh at, and in a measure forget 
our youthful fancies, but no one yet who has ever 
experienced that first kiss of love can possibly for- 
get it. Beauty’s heart beat almost to madness; she 


142 


OUR CHILD. 


released herself from his warm embrace, and like a 
blinded, frightened bird she turned to flee from his 
presence only to find herself encircled in the arms 
of her angry father, who had unfortunately wit- 
nessed the closing scene between these two young 
people. 


CHAPTER XXII. 


“ The fairest action of our human life 
Is scorning to revenge an injury: 

For who forgives without a further strife. 

His adversary’s heart to him doth tie, 

And 'tis a firmer conquest truly said 
To win the heart than overthrow the head.” 

Millicent had undergone so much in the years 
that had passed that her mind had in a measure 
become somewhat confused, and she began to 
wonder, in a kind of bewildered way, if she had 
heard the prince aright. Lifting her head from 
off his shoulder she looked into his dark eyes and 
said, “ What do you mean ? It cannot be that my 
journey is ended, as you say, and that I shall find 
Truston in that old castle." 

“Yes, Millicent, for five good long years now 
those old grey stone walls have sheltered your son." 

She no more thought of doubting his word 
than doubting the heavens above her, and turning 
her eyes toward the castle, she murmured, as she 
stretched out her arms as though to grasp some- 


144 


OUR CHILD. 


thing invisible to him, “ I am almost afraia to 
meet my boy now, for he is no longer a child but 
a man and — ” 

“ Yes, yes,” interrupted the prince, unconscious- 
ly drawing very near to her again. “ Let me help 
you, Millicent; for you are too weak and delicate 
to bear any more; for through Truston’s veins runs 
the hot, proud blood of the Monti Serrati ; he will 
not greet you now like an innocent, trusting child 
or with open arms.' Mark my words, fair woman, 
he will fold his hands behind him, perhaps, and 
gaze upon you and ask you to tell him who his fa- 
ther is. If you cannot do it, and again, if you fal- 
ter in one of your answers to his keen questions, 
he will scorn you.” 

“ Scorn me ! ” she repeated while a curious little 
smile encircled her features 

“ Yes, Millicent, and from his scorn I wish to 
save you. Listen to me now,” resumed the prince, 
“for the day and hour have come that you must. 
Just sixteen years ago to-night you stood by my 
side at an altar in a little out-of-the-way chapel in 
London. Some one, I remember, read over the 
words very sternly and well that made us one, as 
you then thought. Why not let that ceremony 
pass as a legal one, Millicent ? I will publish to 
the world the date of our marriage from that time, 
then Truston — ” 


OUR CHILD. 


145 


But here she stopped him ! 

“Prince dsi Monti Serrati, hark ! You might 
possibly deceive the world in that way, but can 
you deceive your God? You told me once that 
ceremony was illegal and if such were the case, 
think you that I would stoop to falsehood now for 
the sake of what the people of the ,world might 
say ? No.” 

“ Do you know, Millicent,” said the prince as 
the last tones of her voice died on the air, “ you 
make me feel as though I was going mad — mad no 
longer with passion, but insane with the shadow 
of that sin I committed sixteen years ago to-night.” 

These last words made quite an impression on 
her naturally sensitive, sympathetic heart, and 
quietly laying her hand in his, she said, very softly 
and sweetly, “ Come, prince, follow me to the old 
castle, for we have had two great, watchful, loving 
friends — my God and my father. Our child will 
never curse us, or scorn me, so come along and let 
matters take their course.” 


CHAPTER XXIII. 


* The coward and small in soul 
Scarce do live.” 


It was a grand but lonely spot, and Millicent 
was strangely impressed as she entered the great 
dark hall by the extreme silence that pervaded the 
whole castle; and there was something too about 
the ring of her footsteps in the gloomy hall that 
startled her and sent thrill after thrill of terror 
through Tier whole frame. Somewhere in this an- 
cient castle, she was to find Truston, but where? 
and would he know her, and be glad to see her ? 
she wondered; and while she stood still for a sec- 
ond, waiting and hoping he might come rushing 
out to her with open arms from some unknown 
corner or nook, as he had been wont to do many 
and many a time in his youth, she suddenly heard 
voices — yes, and they were very near her too. A 
great fear overtook her, a fear that he might come 
walking into the hall, and without any warning see 
her standing there pale and trembling, and it 
146 


OUR CHILD. 


147 


rpight give him a great shock from which he could 
not easily recover. Under the staircase near at 
hand she discovered an alcove-like place and im- 
mediately she sought shelter there; not one second 
too soon, however, for just at that moment the 
door directly opposite her was blown open by a 
heavy gust of wind, a wind that had suddenly 
risen and was marching on before the storm that 
threatened every moment to burst upon the world 
outside the castle. As the door flew open, how- 
ever, this scene met her view — a young and beau- 
tiful girl kneeling at the feet of a tall, slender 
Spaniard, whose face was cruel in its rage : by her 
side stood a noble-looking young fellow whom 
Millicent quickly recognized as Truston, and her 
heart swelled high with love and pride as she gazed 
upon him. There he stood with a look on his face 
that betokened no good to the Spaniard if he 
raised the whip he held in his hand to strike the 
girl at his feet. Five years had made a wonderful 
change in Truston, and Millicent thought of the 
words the prince had spoken as she looked at him. 

No, he would not run to meet her now with out- 
stretched arms and a happy heart; for had not that 
face wherein dwelt great thought and intellect 
many a time darkened as he pondered over his 
name, and the mystery of his birth ? Yes, MilH- 


148 


OUR CHILD. 


cent knew it now, and could see it all too plainly, 
for she had been gifted from her birth as a reader 
of the heart and human face. Yet, how she 
longed to fly to his arms and tell him the truth, for 
now she knew she must, but something held her 
back, and that something was the hand of Prince 
dsi Monti Serrati as he clutched her about the 
shoulders. He had followed her to the castle as 
she bade him do, and through some mysterious 
opening at one side of the alcove he had pressed 
his way to her side. There was no nook or 
corner in this old castle but the prince knew all too 
well. At last she could go no farther; she was 
bound hand and foot to fate. She could feel the 
hands of the prince and hear his voice as he whis- 
pered in her ear, “There stands the Spaniard, 
Millicent, who read the ceremony for us in that lit- 
tle chapel in London, just sixteen years ago to- 
night.” 

“ And did he read it ? ” she murmured. “ This 
is a peculiar world, Prince dsi Monti Serrati; but 
stranger still even do things come to pass in it.” 

And while her words made a strange impression 
on his heart, he relapsed into silence even as she 
did; for just then the angry Spaniard spoke, and 
these words came distinctly to their ears: 

Young Truston, you had better go from this 


OUR CHILD. 


149 


i'oom, for I cannot strike Beauty while you stay.” 

“ Why strike her at all, Spanishica ? ” said 
Truston, while his face turned a shade paler as he 
looked down into the lovely, pleading, upturned 
eyes of Beauty. “ She has done no harm.” 

“ But hark you,” said Spanishica. “ It is your 
intent to spoil her, but I shall not allow you to 
do it.” 

“ Spoil her, in what way ? ” inquired Truston, as a 
haughty, scornful smile curved his aristocratic 
features. This scorn, however, seemed to enrage 
the Spaniard all the more, and looking first at 
Truston, then down upon Beauty, he said, while he 
fairly ground his teeth, 

“ Every opportunity you both find, you openly 
defy my rules — you,” pointing at Truston, “ by 
coaxing this young and innocent girl to go and 
wander with you around and about these wild and 
beautiful yet treacherous premises; and you. Beauty 
wait till I am out of sight and hearing to throw 
your book away only to go and listen to a false and 
deceptive lad.” 

“ Spanishica, stop ! ” said Truston. “ You have 
gone far enough, speak no more such words as 
these in the presence of.your motherless daughter, 
lest you yourself overthrow her innocence and 
simplicity. Beauty knows I never have told her 


OUR CHILD. 


150 

an untruth or has there yet in all our acquaintance 
anything ever occurred but we would just as soon 
the whole world would see.” 

“ I myself witnessed a scene to-day,” said 
Spanishica, “ that I would not w^ant the whole 
world to see, and Beauty shall suffer for her 
imprudence.” 

“ Never ! ” cried Truston, as he unfolded his arms 
and placed one hand on Beauty’s raven, curly 
locks. “ She shall hot be punished for what I 
myself was to blame for. I carried her away to 
that seat that overlooks the Rhine, a favorite resort 
of ours. Again, this interference of mine may seem 
to you like a great piece of effrontery, yet I repeat 
you shall not strike Beauty for that.” 

Now the Spaniard turned and walked the room 
a few times, furious in his wrath. After a second 
or two, however, he returned to Truston’s side and 
said: 

“ Beauty is a child of mine by lawful marriage, 
and now listen, young man, while I say no one shall 
dictate to me what I will do or shall not do with 
her, least of all the illegitimate son of Prince dsi 
Monti Serrati.” 

And the prince from where he stood heard these 
words and his heart sank within him; covering his 
eyes with his hands he gradually lost all physical 


OUR CHILD. 


strength and dropped helplessly down upon the 
cold, stone floor at Millicent s feet. She heeded not 
his weakness, but waited in trembling, breathless 
suspense for Truston to speak. 

Very manly and elegant he appeared as he 
straightened his figure up to his full height and 
said, without even removing his hand from Beauty’s 
head: 

“ Can Spanishica place the evidence before me 
that my beautiful, gifted mother is anything and 
everything but the pure and sainted woman I have 
always pictured her in my mind to be ? ” 

A sneering smile parted the Jips of the Spaniard, 
and crossing his arms over his breast he said, 
“ Have you not had your days of thinking, and 
hard, serious thinking, too, as to who you are and 
why you inhabit one of the oldest and most ancient 
castles in Germany? You know that this is the 
prince’s castle and that he provides you with every 
luxury and comfort; yet never comes near you, but 
still sails around the world under single colors. 
Have I not* told you this before? And now, after 
it all, you ask me to place the evidence before you 
that your mother was not the beloved mistress of 
Prince dsi Monti Serrati.” 

Truston had remained very cool up to this 
moment, but the Spaniard’s last words had mad- 


152 


Our child. 


dened him, and suddenly lifting Beauty to her feet, 
he placed her behind him, and stepping up very 
close to Spanishica he gave him a look that made 
every bone, as it were, shake in his cowardly 
body. 

“ You asked me, sir, if I had not had my days of 
thinking. That question I scorn to answer to such 
as you. You also asked me if I did not know that 
this is Prince dsi Monti Serrati’s castle, and while 
yet I know it well, and am bound hand and foot to 
mystery, I will not allow you to stand before me 
and use my mother s name — no matter what she 
is,” and before Spanishica had time to draw another 
long breath, he found himself lying face downward 
upon the floor. 

Beauty’s sympathy was now thoroughly aroused, 
and taking both of Truston’s hands within her own, 
she said, while tears glistened in her eyes, “ I am 
so sorry for you; but* only say that you forgive me; 
for it is I who have brought all this great trouble on 
you to-day. 

“ Beauty, I am thankful that it has come; for now 
it is over; your father s anger only hastened the 
time and revealed facts that have tormented my 
mind since I have been old enough to understand 
anything.” 

Now the Spaniard had risen again to his feet and 


OUR child. 15^ 

was moving slowly and steathily and snake-like 
toward them. 

Beauty saw him, and was truly frightened, and 
clung to Truston, trembling in every limb and cry- 
ing, “ O save me, save me, Truston ! ” 

But with one panther-like spring he was by her 
side and had seized her in his arms, and with cruel, 
tremendous force hurled her far away from them 
both. She landed, however, straight into the arms 
of no less a person than Prince dsi Monti Serrati. 

His strength had come back to him. He had 
heard and seen enough to warn him that there 
must be a stop put to the Spaniard’s tongue and 
cowardly behavior. 

Spanishica did not see him, though, and lifting 
the heavy whip he still held in his hand, he was 
about to bring it down upon Truston’s defenceless 
head when his arm was caught midway and held 
most securely by two of the whitest yet firmest 
hands in the world. The whip fell to the floor, and 
the Spaniard looked straight into a beautiful face 
he had never seen before; and turning as white as 
death, he stepped back from her a little aside. As 
he did so he met the prince’s dark eyes bent sternly 
and coldly upon him. Then he turned and looked 
upon the woman once more. What a face and form 
he beheld, and eyes were looking into his that 


154 


OlJR CHILD. 


nearly staggered him with their brilliancy and pride. 
On her head sat a crown like Truston’s, and no 
words were needed to tell him that he now stood 
before mother and son. He no. longer had the 
Italian in his power, yet, the prince thought he did; 
and while Truston knew his mother well, he never 
stirred, or opened his lips to speak; he only stood 
like a white, cold piece of marble, gazing in great 
wonder upon her. At last Millicent spoke, and her 
words and voice struck Spanishica with great 
awe. 

“ Turn ! ” she cried and say to my son the 
words you have so cruelly and revengefully spoken 
are false; for you and you alone can prove to Truston 
that just sixteen years ago to-night I became the 
lawful wife of Prince dsi Monti Serrati and you also 
well know that that grand old Bishop Alster that 
London s people love to listen to made me so, and 
again that my father. Dean Livingston, gave me to 
the man who now stands holding your sweet child 
in his arms.” 

Very gently the prince placed Beauty in a chair 
near by then with a fixed, determined look on his 
face he walked up to the Spaniard and said, 

“ Spanishica, not one instant now must you trifle 
with me. Is this true that I have heard ? ’’ 

“ It is,” promptly replied the Spaniard. He 


OUR CHILD. 


155 


dared do no less, for he stood in the presence of 
one who was in every way his master. 

After this reply the prince turned to Millicent 
and said, 

“ You have known this many years.” 

“ Yes, and long even before Truston was born.” 

And then she told them all ; how kind 
Maggie Conroy had been to her, and how her 
father came to their rescue in the old house on the 
mountain in Switzerland and took them away to 
America, where Truston was born, and she also 
told him of her life up to the date he had met her 
in Paris, and when she had done the storm that 
all the while had been raging without the castle, 
abated and the dark shadows of night crept into 
the room, and they fell on the form of the prince 
as he humbly knelt before the woman he truly 
loved and yet whose heart he had almost broken. 
Still, he thanked his God that the terrible wrong 
he believed he had committed sixteen years before 
had been intercepted and adjusted by good and 
mighty hands. 

By Millicent s side sat her son, with his arm 
about her waist, and his face wreathed in happy 
smiles; for the mystery of his birth had at last 
been made clear to him. The Spaniard had long 
since slunk from their presence, followed not by 


156 


OUR CHILO. 


his daughter however. She lingered behind and 
crouched down in one corner of the room, unbe- 
known to its occupants, greedily devouring, as it 
were, the very outline of the form of the one who 
had absolutely won her youthful affection ; neither 
did she stir till midnight came, and when the clock 
in the room told the hour, the prince moaned, and 
rising to his feet once more he laid his hand on 
Millicent’s shoulder and said, “ I am going to leave 
you now, and you will not see me again till you 
have landed on England’s shore; then, after the 
world has rung with the news of my marriage I 
will come to you, and in your father’s house I will 
ask your forgiveness ; and will you then grant it, 
Millicent ? ” 

Yes,” was all she said. 

Then he turned and left her, followed closely by 
Truston. 

Just outside the great dark doors of the castle 
stood father and son, and what a pair they were ! 
The prince had lost none of his elegance and beauty 
in the years that had passed over his head, and 
Truston looked, as he stood holding his father’s 
hand, like a prince indeed, in the full meaning of 
the word. They could hear the voice of the Rhine 
as it went on its way, and the soft wind that gently 
sighed through the trees that stood near the old 


OUR CHILD. 


157 


castle, and the prince thought they were sighing 
for him, and bending his head over Truston’s hand 
he said: 

“ My son, listen to those old trees ; they are 
sighing and sorrowing with me along the desolate 
shores of memory, and over the destruction my 
wild passion has made.” 

“ Father,” said Truston, “think no more of the 
past, for it will do you no good.” 

“ Very true,” replied the prince. “ Now I will 
bid you good-bye for a time ; but remember, my 
boy, all will be made right and I will meet Millicent 
and you in England in less than three weeks’ time.” 

“ Good-bye, father,” said Truston, as he raised 
the prince’s white hand to his lips. Then he was 
gone, and Truston’s eyes filled with tears as he 
disappeared from his view midst the trees and 
darkness. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 


“ Love is the key to felicity, nor is there a heaven to him who 
has it not.’ 

It was Beauty who felt tears had gathered in 
Truston s eyes, and so with a delicately scented 
handkerchief she wiped them away. 

“ Ah ! Beauty,’* he cried, in some surprise, as he 
felt her soft hand on his cheek. “ How came you 
to be awake at this time of night ? ” 

“ Well, Truston, to tell you the truth, I dared 
not go to sleep, lest I should wake up in the morn- 
ing and find you gone.” 

Very softly he laughed as he wound his arm 
about her pretty, rounded shoulders, and his face was 
dangerously near hers as he said, “ Does Beauty 
think that I would leave this old castle without 
bidding her adieu ? ” 

“ O no ; not exactly that.” 

“ But what. Beauty? ” 

“ O, I don’t know,” she said as she burst out 
into a heartv fit of weeping. 

1.58 


OUR CHILD. 


159 


“ There, there,’' cried Truston, as he took her 
in his arms, “ you must not give way to such weak- 
ness as this.” 

“ But, Truston, when you go to England you 
will forget all about me.” 

“ Never, Beauty ! I love you too well for 
that.” 

‘‘ But you are very young, Truston; and some 
pretty, light, English face will come along and 
claim your heart.” 

“ Beauty, you say I am young, which is very 
true, still I am older by three years than you; and 
again, I do not care for light faces and never have. 
I love eyes like yours; for in their passionate, 
midnight depths there lives a soul — a soul full of 
intellect, honor and truth. You have the eyes 
and voice that hold a man’s heart even to his dying 
day; he could not forget you if he would,” as he 
finished speaking he felt her arms encircle his neck 
and in another moment their lips were joined 
together once more. Spanishica was forgotten by 
them both now, and nothing whatever rose to mar 
that instant of bliss. 

After a little, however, he released her and said, 
“ Beauty, my sweet young love, when I go to 
England, yoa must write to me every week, no 
matter where you are, and this,’' taking a small 


i6o 


OUR CHILD. 


diamond ring off his little finger, “ you must wear 
till we meet again, which will be in a very few 
years; for I love you, and when you are old enough 
I am going to make you my wife.” 

Then he placed the ring on her hand. She 
held it up for a moment very close to her eyes, 
and even in the darkness of the night it sparkled, 
the gem was so pure and faultless. 

“ O Truston,” she cried, “ how pretty it is, and 
how I lo\^ you ! Still again, have you thought 
of this: that your father is one of Italy's greatest 
princes while I am only your dancing master s 
daughter. ‘ What a mesalliance ! ' the world will 
say.” 

“ Beauty, do you think I for one moment would 
care what the world thought? No; your happi- 
ness and mine are worth more, to me than any 
thing else. So, my dear, never let that trouble 
you any more. Now I will say good night and 
good-bye, for I will not see you again before I go 
away, for mother and I leave this old castle to- 
morrow about mid-day.” 

Her voice trembled so with emotion she could 
not say good-bye, and while he well knew Beauty’s 
little heart was nearly bursting with grief at parting 
with him, he kept silent, for he thought it wisdom 


OUR GHILD. 


i6r 

to do so; so he led her into the. house and along 
the hall, and at the foot of the staircase their silent 
parting was sweet, pure and affectionate. Yes, 
he was going to leave her, but forget her — 
never ! 


CHAPTER XXV. 


“What different lots our stars accord! 

This babe to be hailed and wooed as a lord, 
And that to be s'hunned like a leper! 

One to the world’s wine, honey and corn, 
Another, like Colchester’s natives, born 
To its vinegar only and pepper.” 


And Millicent came home to England after six- 
teen long and troublesome years. It was on a day 
that the world was looking very beautiful, for a 
summer shower had just passed away, and Trus- 
ton’s young heart leaped with joy at the sight of 
the fresh green fields and the soft gentle wind 
that murmured in his ears. But Millicent s eyes 
dimmed with tears as she passed the thick green 
hedge, for it made her think of the lover of her 
youth, and when she raised her eyes and gazed 
upon her old home and saw there standing on the 
veranda waiting for her, her father and Maggie 
Conroy, she could brook no more — her heart was 
full to overflowing; and laying her head on Trus- 
ton’s shoulder she sobbed out what her heart felt, 
162 


OUR CHILD. 163 

and he remained perfectly silent, for there was 
nothing he could say or do to quiet her now. 

The dean knew she was coming, for she had 
written and told him so; and when he discerned the 
open carriage wherein his daughter and grandson 
sat rolling swiftly toward him along the graveled 
road, he cleared the long wide steps of the house 
with two bounds, and he could hardly wait till the 
horses halted ere he had Millicent in his arms. 

“ Home once more ! ” he said, as he kissed her 
again and again. “ O my daughter, my daughter, 
how glad I am to see you after such a length of 
time ! " 

She tried to speak to him, but she could not, 
her voice was so full of tears. 

“ Never mind, my child, never mind,” he said, 
as he kissed the drooping lids of her beautiful eyes 
— understanding well the cause that made her thus 
affected, for the summer of the dean’s life had 
passed and he had long ago conformed to the 
ways of the world and with a ripe good judgment 
he looked at everything in this light — Whate’er 
we may have gotten or gain in this world, after it 
all there is certainly nothing to lose — and placing 
his daughter in Maggie’s out-stretched arms, he 
turned to Truston and said, as he took his hand 
within his own, “ Ah ! my boy, God has blessed 


164 


OUR CHILD. 


you with a noble face; and I am truly glad you are 
my grandson and have come to England to live 
with me.” 

When Millicent felt Maggie's strong arms encir- 
cle her waist, she became herself again, and look- 
ing into her face she said, as she smiled ever so 
brightly, “You are looking well and happy, my 
friend. God has been kind to you at least ; has He 
not ? ” 

“Yes, very, sweet princess,” replied Maggie; 
“ He has given me a good husband and two of the 
brightest little children in the world, and a home 
wherein peace and comfort dwell, situated not far 
from the deanery either; so now you will not allow 
many days to pass away before you come and see 
me, will you ? ” 

“ Indeed I shall not,” said Millicent; but here 
they were interrupted by a pitiful whine, like an 
animal in pain. 

“ Ah ! ” said Truston, as he laid his hand on the 
dean’s shoulder, “ What was that ? ” 

“ Poor old Don; he has been very feeble for a 
week past,” said the dean, “ and every day now I 
am waiting for him to breathe his last, for his time 
has come.” 

“ Mother, did you hear that? ” said Truston, as 
he caught up her hand in his. 


OUR CHILD. 


165 


“ Yes, my child," and turning to her father she 
said: “Take me to him, for he wants to see me 
once more before he dies.’^ 

“ Look ! " suddenly cries the dean, at the same 
time pointing with his forefinger to the farther ex- 
tremity of the long veranda. “ He has risen from 
his bed, and is trying to walk. Yes, Millicent, he 
has heard your voice. Go to him ! " 

Sure enough, there was Don, her friend, and he 
was making a great effort to walk, as the dean had 
said, but he was very old and very feeble, yet he 
knew her and her heart swelled with sorrowful 
emotion when she saw him. 

“ O Don/ Don ! dear old fellow! " she cried, as 
she rushed toward him, and falling down upon her 
knees by his side she threw her arms about his 
shaggy neck and cried aloud like a little child. 

Don fairly covered her face, neck and arms and 
hands with kisses, so delighted was he to see her 
once more. 

After a little, however, his strength failed him 
again, and with one long, prolonged howl, he sud- 
denly fell in a great white heap at her feet ; she 
very gently lifted up his head and looked at him, 
but Don was dead, and it struck them all as being 
a very peculiar thing that Don’s days had been so 
lengthened that he might behold Millicent again 
after sixteen years. 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

“ Hereafter in a better world than this 
I shall desire more love and knowledge of you.” 

For the last two weeks all Europe had rung 
with the news of Prince dsi Monti Serrati’s roman- 
tic marriage, and Millicent was truly glad, for the 
sake of her son. She could plainly see a bright 
and glorious future for Truston; but when she be- 
gan to picture that future also for the prince and 
herself, the light went out, leaving her, as it were, 
in total darkness. All his vast wealth, palaces and 
castles floated away into a dimness that frightened 
her, and suddenly a strange, uncontrollable presen- 
timent began to steal over her that she was going 
to die; and she shuddered as she spoke the word 
aloud. 

She was sitting by an open window in the long, 
old-fashioned sitting-room, looking more like a 
beautiful picture than a mortal being. She wore 
an evening dress of violet hue, trimmed with rich 
and costly delicate lace. Her neck and arms were 
like snow, so pure were they in their whiteness. 

' 166 


OUR CHILD. 


167 


And here she sat waiting for the prince. She felt 
and knew he would come this evening ; and she 
had donned the color he loved best. 

“ Die ! who said that word in these pleasant 
times?" cried Truston, as he came bounding into 
the room, and rushing up to Millicent s side, he 
put his hand on her shoulder and laughed quite gay- 
ly as he continued, “ Are you going to die, 
mother, just as the whole world knows you are the 
Princess dsi Monti Serrati and Paris is waving her 
hand with joy over the fact and thinking too, per- 
haps, the prince will at last throw open his mag- 
nificent palace doors to the fashionable world? 
No, no; my beautiful mother, do not, I pray you, 
now allow such sad thoughts to enter your brain." 

Just at this second the dean entered the room, 
bearing in his hand a bunch of the choicest and 
sweetest of white lilies. 

“ For you, my daughter," he said, as he went 
and bent down upon one knee before her. 

She took them from his hand, with the prettiest 
of smiles, and said, “ Father, I think the prince will 
come to-night; don’t you ? " 

“ Well, I don’t know, Millicent. What gives 
you the impression that he will ? " 

“ Only this; every hour and minute of this day 
his face has been before me. He is very near me, 
I know." 




i68 


OUR CHILD, 


“ Millicent," said the dean, “ you are right; for 
look, there he comes now up the garden walk.’' 

She followed the direction of her father’s keen 
eyes, and discovered the prince, sure enough, 
swiftly making his way toward them. 

With one wild cry of joy she sprang to her feet, 
and through the open window she went out to 
meet him, and a smile full of great and intense 
pleasure lit up his face when he saw her. The 
next instant she was in his arms, and he was mur- 
muring as only the prince could, soft and low, 

“ O my darling, my darling! This moment is 
worth a whole life-time to me. .Yet speak and say 
that you forgive me.” 

She raised the eyes to his that he loved so well, 
and a smile parted her lips as she said, “ I fully and 
freely forgave you, prince, the day we stood by the 
Rhine and you told me where I could find my child.” 

“ Ah ! Millicent, my love, now you will go away 
with me, won’t you ? ” 

“ No,” said she, you shall go with me, and 
together we will regain the paradise lost here 
below.” 

And even as Millicent was speaking, the golden 
gates were being thrown open for her; her spirit 
was preparing for its flight. 

It was just at the time of evening, however, that 


OUR CHILD. 


169 


everything always looks its best, and the prince 
thought, as he gazed down upon the woman he 
held in his arms, life would not be worth living if 
he were to lose her now. She looked even as 
frail and delicate as the flowers she still held in her 
hand; but that, in the prince s eyes, only added an 
inimitable charm to her comeliness. Everything 
in the world was forgotten by these two, but the 
love that now irrevocably bound them together; 
and the dean and Truston saw it from where they 
stood, and quietly enough they turned away from 
the window and walked into the dean’s study. 

“ But you did not answer me, prince,” she said. 
“ Will you go with me ? ” 

‘ Go with you, my darling! Yes, anywhere, 
and everywhere,” and then their lips met once 
more; but even as they did so he felt hers quiver 
and grow cold, and a strange feeling passed over 
him. What did it all mean anyway ? he wondered, 
then her beautiful white head fell forward on his 
breast, and he became thoroughly alarmed. 

O Millicent, Millicent I ” cried he. 

‘‘ Speak to me once again, won’t you, darling ? ” 
“ Yes,” she whispered, ever so faintly, ‘‘ after I 
am dead.” He turned her face to the light, and 
as he did so a peaceful expression passed over it 
as quietly as a ripple on the sleeping ocean. 


CHAPTER XXVII. 

“Let the lifeless body rest ! 

He is gone who was its guest.’' 

It was a solemn night in Dean Livingston’s 
home. For the one Vho had been his heart’s idol 
lay cold and speechless. Millicent’s body had been 
resting now two whole daysv and on the . morrow 
they were going to bury her from their sight for- 
ever. Truston had never known a grief likd this, 
and the prince roamed about the house like a mad- 
man. Sleep came to none of them, for sorrow kept 
it away, and only the dean, who had much faith, 
looked upon it all as the will of God. 

“ Surely,” said he, “ Millicent has gone to a 
brighter home, and where all tears shall be forever 
dried.” 

It was fast bordering on to midnight when the 
prince, in company with his son, walked slowly 
into the long, airy parlor where she lay. As soon 
as he caught sight of her pale, cold face, beautiful 
even in death, he clutched the arms of Truston and 
cried^. 


170 


OUR CHILD. 


T71 

My God, can it be that Millicent is really dead, 
and her lips will never meet mine again in a warm 
kiss ? O Heaven, how my brow aches ! Put your 
soft hand upon it, my child, and try and stop the 
wild throbbing within." 

“ O Father, father, come away ! ’’ cried Truston, . 
in trembling tones; “ or the sight of her white face 
will drive you mad." 

“ Mad ! " repeated his father, as a strange, hag- 
gard look overspread his countenance. 

Was it fancy or what ? but just at that moment 
her cold, grey lips actually parted, and the word, 

“ Prince " escaped them. Then all was still again. 
After a little he threw his arms about Truston’s 
neck, and whispered, “Good-bye, my boy, your 
mother is calling me and I must go." 

Wildly did Truston beseech him to abandon his 
mad course, but all in vain; the prince heard and 
saw him no more, and falling down upon his knees 
by Millicent’s sid^ he threw his arms around her 
cold form, and said, 

“ Yes, my love, I am coming ; be not afraid, 

I will never forsake you again, never — never — 
never ! " 

It was all over with these two; and when the 
morning dawned Prince dsi Monti Serrati had, as 
George Eliot so beautifully expresses it, “ forever 


1/2 


OUR CHILD. 


ceased to be vexed with the painful riddle of this 
life.’* 

“ And so this body of ours which is a husk of 
the soul shall be buried in the earth. It shall 
moulder and mingle with the dust from which it 
sprang. But from its ashes there shall come forth 
the germ of a new and immortal life, which shall 
be clothed in a spiritual and deathless body; and the 
living soul, invested with its new and ethereal form, 
shall go on increasing in greatness and beauty until 
it surpasses the highest reach of this earthly life.” 

Then let us hope that these two souls will meet 
again in that grand and eternal Elysium where the 
fulfillment and completion of all the joys and 
pleasures so tenebriously caught here below are 
promised us. 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 


"There is no worldly pleasure here below. 

Which by experience doth not folly prove, 

But among all the follies that I know 
The sweetest folly in the world is love.” 

By the world the Prince and Princess dsi Monti 
Serrati are almost if not entirely forgotten. Even 
the people of Paris no longer gaze upon the white 
marble walls of the palace and think of the one who 
dearly loved in his day to startle them with his 
ideas and individual idiosyncrasies. But by one, 
however, they are not forgotten, and never will be. 
Now, after twenty years, Truston sits in the apart- 
ment in the palace where he first met his father; 
before him stands the old wooden clock, ticking in 
a slow, even way, just the same for him as the 
generations before; and he gazes in wonder, even 
as his father did before him, upon the face of the 
old time-piece, now grown quite yellow with age, 
and he' thinks of the marvelous and wonderful 
changes that have taken place since it was first 
made. 


173 


174 


Cur child. 


Truston .s the prince of this palace now and while 
yet Paris is proud of him, the people look upon him , 
with a kind of awe, so noble and distinguished look- 
ing is he in his bearing. < 

His youthful experience has added a few sad I 
curves about his handsome features, but the world 
in which he quietly moves loves him all the more 
for the certain air of thoughtfulness and dignity 
which he always carries with him. And while he 
sits there thinking of the past the door of the room 
is pushed' quietly ajar, and a woman, magnificent in 
her dark, expressive beauty, enters. In one instant 
all the sadness vanishes from his face, and rising 
from his chair he goes to meet her with a brilliant 
smile. Taking one of her small white hands in his, 
he says, as he bends very low over her. 

“ Beauty, my darling, tell me why it is that your 
lovely face, and yours alone, can drive gloom and 
sadness away from me.’' 

His only answer was a soft, merry peal of 
laughter, and he wound his arm about her, and draw- 
ing her very close to his side, whispers, 

“ Tell me, my sweet wife, if yoii can, why you 
and I have been permitted to love one another so 
well in this palace where only torture and unhap- 
piness under this same roof fell to the lot of my 
handsome father and beautiful mother ? 


OUR CHILD. 


175 


She raised her fine large dark eyes to his, and 
made him this reply, “ Truston, ask me why the 
morning dawns and the night follows, also ask me 
why the stars twinkle and the moon was made to 
lighten darkness and to one and all of these ques- 
tions I can only answer, ‘ I don’t know.’ Now I am 
going to take you away from this room,” she said 
as she put her hand in his arm, “ for you must 
think no more to-night of your father and mother, 
and even grandfather, who have been resting now 
for fully twenty years ; and who knows, Truston, 
but they are happier even than we are. Look ! ” 
she continued, pointing the while at the clock, “ it 
is long, long past seven.” 

“ Yes, Beauty. I know what that means,” he 
said as he smiled down upon her. 

“ It means,” she replied with another rippling 
laugh, “ that it is time for us to be seriously think- 
ing of dressing for our ball. Do you know,” she 
resumed, now in an eager, enthusiastic manner, 
that all the papers of any importance whatever 
speak of this ball we are going to give to-night as 
the greatest one ever yet thought of for the aristo- 
cracy of Paris. I hope it will be a success; don’t 
you, Truston ? ” 

“ Yes, Beauty, for your sweet sake, I most cer- 
tainly do.” 


1/6 


OUR CHILD. 


Then she led him away from the only room in 
the great palace where sad and mournful thoughts 
always played havoc with his memory; and one — 
two — three — four — five — six — seven — eight tolled 
the old clock as they closed the door behind them. 


THE END. 





Talmage on Palestine, 

A SERIES OF SERMONS BY THE 

REV. T, DE WITT TALMAGE, 

On his recent and noted travels through Pales- 
tine. What he saw and learned 
while there, etc., etc. 


The wide-spread and ever increasing interest that has been 
taken in Dr. Talmage’s recent trip to the Holy Lands has made 
this series of sermons the most popular that has ever been deliv- 
ered by this famous preacher. During their delivery thousands of 
people were turned away from the doors unable to gain admission. 

If you are fond of interesting reading you ought to read this 
book. It will be sent to any address upon receipt of price by the 
publisher. 

I want agents everywhere to sell this book to whom I offer big 
pay. Write for terms. 


Price in Paper Cover, - - - 25 Cents. 

Handsomely Bound in Fine Silk Cloth, with Gold 

Side and Back Stamp, - ^ - $1.00. 


Address all orders ^ JJ ^ ^ , 

W. D. Rowland, PublisheVt^ 

23 CHAMBERS STREET. NEW YORK. 





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